Bang! Bang!
by RBGzMom
Summary: My canon on how the real Olivia Pope would respond to the attempted assassination of the only man she has ever loved. I do not own a thing. I borrow Shonda's stuff and all song lyrics to indulge my Olitz forever feels.
1. Chapter 1

**Bang! Bang!**

 **Canon compliant until after the press conference**

Olivia waits until the last question is asked to exit the press briefing room. "Tom, a moment," she gestures him away from the door and the other agent. Her gut told her all she needed to know about him. "I hope you trust me enough to speak freely," she studies his face but he reveals nothing.

She will have to take the risk. The stakes were too high. Fitz, the man that is more than she ever dreamed possible almost died. Olivia was 'woke as fuck and anyone remotely involved would be dead and buried before her head hit the pillow tonight. "Anyone successfully attempting an assassination would have to have someone on the inside. Would you agree?" she begins building her case.

"Yes Ma'am," he responds professionally.

She is shocked he responded but encouraged. "There is a chance he may not be safe within the White House," she suggests.

"Yes Ma'am," he responds but never looks at her directly.

Olivia shudders down to her soul. "How do you recommend I keep him safe?" The silence is deafening until he speaks.

"We have a new agent. I trained him. We will meet you at Blair House in thirty minutes. Use the tunnels," he directs.

Her eyes fill with tears, "Thank you," Olivia chokes out.

"No Ma'am, thank you." He turns and barks orders into his wrist wire and agents shift into action.

* * *

Fitz descends from the podium headed back to the Oval. His brows furrow at the level of activity by the Secret Service Agents and the new faces. Fear and anxiety swirl in his gut. "Mr. President, please follow me," Tom requests approaching from the side.

"Tom, what is happening?" his voice is strained.

Tom leans in and speaks just above a whisper into his ear, "Ms. Pope and I made some immediate changes to guarantee your safety."

Fitz responds quickly, "Lead the way."

* * *

Olivia paces and her mind races waiting for him to arrive. She glances at the door repeatedly until she hears two quick knocks before the door opens wide. There he stands weary and obviously in pain, "Hi," he smiles weakly.

Her feet carry her to his side where she wraps one arm around his waist and pulls his arm around her shoulder to guide him into the room and onto the couch. "Rest here," she directs tenderly.

He can only nod as he closes his eyes. The relief of her presence and care robs him of his voice. Fitz senses the activity and voices around him but doesn't have to respond because his Livvie is handling things.

"Fitz, I'm going to put you to bed. We have about one hour before hell in the form of Mellie arrives," she explains. Olivia reaches down to help him up and down the hallway.

They enter the bedroom and his eyes fill with tears. The bedside table holds all his medication and fresh bandages to re-dress his wounds. The bed is turned back, and his pajamas are laid out next to his NAVY sweatshirt. Olivia will sleep by his side tonight. She plans to take care of him. "Liv," he begins but she silences him with a gentle kiss.

"You belong to me. I let them…never again," she shakes her head violently.

He watches in total fascination as she strips down to her panties and slips on the sweatshirt that swallows her petite frame. Slowly she removes his shoes and socks, his jacket, the belt and pulls his shirt tails out. Her hands tremble when she attempts to unbutton the shirt covering his bandaged chest. Fitz grasps her hands and kisses each, "I got this," he reassures her.

Olivia nods and wipes away a stray tear. "I need to make food so you can take your pain medication and antibiotics," she exits the room. She rushes to the kitchen so she can breathe and steady herself.

* * *

He is buttoning the pajama top when she returns with a tray. "Chef made your favorite grilled cheese and I made popcorn," she offers with a smile.

He laughs lightly, "I'll have a little of both."

She helps him arrange pillows after placing the tray on the bed. He leans back and exhales, "Is this our new normal?" He has to know. He cannot get his hopes up again.

"The beginning…I don't have it all figured out yet," she is cut off.

"We are a team-we will figure it out together," he chides.

"Okay," she confirms.

"How long before 'Tirade Mellie' arrives," he asks around a mouthful of popcorn kernels.

Olivia stiffens and the white, hot rage shoots off her body like lightning bolts. "I will handle her. She will not cross the threshold of the front door," her tone is deadly.

"One of the things I remember is her not wanting to get out of the car. Once we arrived she wanted to return to the White House. I thought her reluctance was about you, but…" he trails off but she finishes his suspicion.

"Now you question her real motivation?"

"I do. She forged my signature-giving herself the Oval," he continues to add to the case against Mellie.

"I believe there is someone on the inside," she piles on, "But for now we will focus on your recovery. We can deal with White House intrigue in the morning," she re-directs the conversation. Olivia removes the tray and helps him fully recline for the night. She climbs in next to him gingerly placing her thigh over his and presses her face into his neck.

Fitz left arm embraces her and she breaks. Her soft sobs bounce off the walls and her tears rain down onto his skin. "You can breathe now…I am where I belong…in your arms."

 **AN: This has been stuck in my head for years. {So sad} There is so much Mellie has never been accountable for but I had to start here.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Bang! Bang!** {Part II}

Olivia is startled awake by the commotion outside the front door-Mellie. Fitz stirs and grimaces when he tries to move freely. "Shh," she soothes, running her hand through the curls at the crown of his head. "Go back to sleep. I got this." She untangles herself from his sleeping form, crossing the bedroom floor on her toes and closes the door behind her.

"Tom, I am the First Lady of the United States pregnant with 'America's Baby'," she places her hands on each side of her generous belly, "Open the door," Mellie commands firmly.

"No Ma'am," he responds as directed.

"I'm sorry…did you tell me no," she questions with righteous indignation.

"Yes Ma'am," he confirms.

"Maybe you have forgotten that you serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States-my husband," she spits out harshly.

"No Ma'am," he replies.

"Let's try this again…open the door," she repeats raising her voice.

"No Ma'am," he repeats.

Mellie huffs and stares, "Open the door or you will be re-assigned," she threatens.

"No Ma'am," he repeats professionally like a broken record. _I am enjoying this and it isn't even the good part yet._

She looks around at the other agents and notices for the first time she does not recognize any familiar faces. This is a brand new team. _Something is wrong._

"Tom, has there been a new threat? Are we in danger? Is Fitz in danger?"

"No Ma'am," he replies.

"Then why won't you open the door. I need to make sure he is okay. His medication and bandages," she stops short when the door opens.

Tom glances over his shoulder and moves to the left side of the door. Olivia Pope stands in the middle of the doorway clad only in Fitz's NAVY sweatshirt, her hands folded in front of her, barefoot, bed tousled hair and a devilish smile. "How may I help you this evening Millicent?" she offers politely.

Mellie rolls her shoulders back and opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. She is in complete shock. _This whore just climbed out of bed with my husband._

Olivia watches in delight as Mellie's brain shuts down and decides in that moment to take advantage of the quiet before the storm.

"First, the immediate care and upcoming medical decisions for Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III are no longer your concern. I retain power of attorney and his medical proxy from this day forward. A copy of the authorization with his legitimate signature was delivered to the East Wing where you have a temporary office."

"Second, if you wish to speak with the President of the United States; please submit a formal request through the normal White House channels and wait for a response."

"Third, before you begin your standard, tired, tirade or launch into a melodramatic tantrum know that every agent has been ordered to physically remove you to a secure location-something like a 'Time Out' until you can behave in a civil manner conducive to polite society."

"Fourth, given you inability to make smart choices, exercise wise judgment or demonstrate any strategic thinking; all electronic devices assigned to you, your soon to be re-assigned staff or office have been removed or shut off. Oh, the press pool or outside press will not respond to your requests."

"Finally, this," she gestures between the two of them, "is the difference between being ornamental," she point to Mellie, "and functional," she points to herself. "Please return to the White House residence while you still can."

Olivia steps back into Blair House closing the door. Tom takes one giant stride and moves back in front of the door with a smile tugging at his lips. _That was the good part._

* * *

 **White House Press Release**

The assassination attempt on President Grant caused undue mental and physical stress for the First Lady. At this stage of her pregnancy the family agreed with the doctor's recommendation of complete bed rest outside the pressure and volatile activity of the White House and Washington, D.C.

The First Lady thanks America for their prayers and patience during this delicate time.

President Grant will continue his remarkable recovery at Camp David this weekend. He will return to the White House bright and early Monday morning to continue his work on behalf of the American People.

Any questions or concerns regarding these changes will be address by acting Communications Director Olivia Pope at the upcoming Press Briefing.

 **AN: To the Guest Reviewer-if you are still reading, Amen to all that and I hope this helps. To Tammy-I tried my best. {smile}**


	3. Chapter 3

**Bang! Bang!** {Part III}

The motorcade buzzes through the streets of Washington, D.C. Olivia's SUV is nestled within the precession. She convinced Fitz her driving was about optics but the truth was she needed the time to build the courage to confess-Defiance. She betrayed herself, Fitz and the country. As a result she lost part of her and almost lost the love of her life. The cost was too high, but redemption was possible.

Olivia reflects on all the moments she should have taken: on the plane, after Big Jerry's funeral, at the archives, after the Cytron explosion or instead of the resignation. This time would be different. More importantly she wants justice. They tried to take his life and if it costs her his love she would pay that price to watch them rot in hell. Fitz would be safe and happy even if it was not with her.

* * *

Olivia sits on the bed with a notepad and pen in hand planning, thinking and plotting. She glances over to his sleeping body. The doctor re-dressed the wounds and added an IV line for antibiotics and pain management. His sleep was more restful than the last two days at Blair House. Tomorrow his brain exercises begin. She chuckles to herself. _He is going to be a pain in the ass._

"How long was I out?" his sleepy voice calls.

"A few hours…How do you feel?" she asks with concern turning to face him.

"Actually not too bad; I think it may have something to do with the woman in my bed," he reaches over to caress her leg.

"Not in the least. You are just high from the pain meds," she quips.

"More than likely but holding your ass during the night helps," he laughs.

The comfortable silence allows both of them to adjust to their new reality as a viable, tangible team without stolen moments and secrets. Fitz watches and studies her-he knows all her tells and something is coming. He waits, he cannot push. She will never admit to anyone but he knows her. His Livvie is delicate and fragile.

"I know who is behind the assassination attempt and why," Olivia exhales all the words without looking directly at Fitz. She picked a spot on the wall just above his head. She does not want a memory of the look on his face if he takes his love away-if he leaves her all alone.

He interjects, "Mellie had the most to gain from my death. A grieving, pregnant First Lady would have the entire nation demanding she take the Oval or at least launch her bid for the next election cycle," he explains emotionally detached.

"True…Hollis Doyle benefits even if he has to manage Sally for two years," she contributes, "Either woman would give him his war in West Angola," Olivia finishes. She dares to watch as the recognition of the truth animates his face.

"She rang the war bell during the gender reveal interview," Fitz picks up the argument, "How do we prove it? A man with his resources can cover his tracks. We need leverage," he sighs.

"I have leverage," she whispers.

"What… How…Never mind, you are Olivia Pope…Handle it," he laughs but she does not. He notices the look on her face and his stomach knots. _This is going to hurt._ "Help me sit up," he demands quietly.

Olivia moves to his side arranging pillows as he pushes into an upright position. He settles and she takes his face in her hands and kisses him hard and long because this may be the last kiss. "The voting machines in Defiance County, Ohio were hacked to make you the winner. Paid for by Hollis Doyle with the permission of your most trusted advisors," she hangs her head in shame. The prolonged silence is deadly and broiling with venom.

"Mellie became the First Lady of the United States…Cyrus became White House Chief of Staff…Verna became a Supreme Court Justice and Hollis plays puppet master; and you, Ms. Pope-what was your prize?" he grits out bitterly.

She violently shakes her head from side to side.

"Did you make the deal before or after you were fucking me? Did you share that piece of information with your treason round table?" he is cruel and relentless. "Look at me," he shouts.

Olivia summons together all that is left of her-every broken piece and faces Fitz. He is devastated and prepared to punish until he actually sees her. His eyes travel over her trembling body and tear stained face. She is vulnerable, raw and scared. "You didn't get anything. You lost everything. Why?" he is confused.

"You got your dream," she croaks out between tears.

"You were my dream," he counters.

"I am no one's dream. I am not enough. You are meant to be great," she reasons.

Fitz's eyes devour every micro-expression on her face and minute piece of body language. _She honestly believes what she is saying._ "Who or what did this to you…made you believe," he cannot finish. The knot in his gut tightens because his Livvie is broken in a way he never imagined. He never knew, he did not see it, but now he knows. "Do you love me?" his tone is gentle.

She wipes away at the steady flow of tears, "Yes."

"Do you want me?"

Olivia nods her head up and down.

"Do you want a real us? Belonging only to each other," he continues to question.

"Yes," her voice gains strength.

"Okay," he confirms.

Her brows rise in shock, "How?"

"Love allows forgiveness," he replies simply.

"Not good enough," she counters.

"Hmm, because you know me…you see me. I know what it means to be scared of who you are- the fear that you are not enough and you love me anyway. Why wouldn't I return your unconditional love?" he pushes back.

Olivia's mouth is agape, her eyes roam his face and her brain reaches for a level of understanding just out of reach.

"What time does your team get here?" he re-directs the conversation.

"I have not called them yet," she stammers.

"Alright, let's grab lunch and work on our plan. We can bring them in later," Fitz continues to push them forward.

* * *

 **A month or more later…**

Fitz finishes his call, "Yes…I understand…press conference tomorrow, but I am cleared-good. Thank you for your amazing care and your service to our country."

Olivia enters the Oval typing away on her phone barely looking up, "You ready?" Lauren closes the door behind her.

"Give me your panties?" he directs.

You are shameless…no," she places her phone in her Prada bag and looks up at him. _Holy shit…he is on fire. I may not survive._ "The doctor cleared you," she confirms.

He moves from behind the Resolute Desk and swaggers toward her. Olivia backs up but hits the closed door. She is trapped. Fitz places a hand on each side boxing her in, "Olivia, give me your damn panties."

She drops her purse on the floor, grabs the sides of her black pencil skirt with the modest side split and slowly pulls it above her waist, "You want them then take 'em," she challenges.

Fitz removes his left hand from the door, reaches down and grabs the front of her black lace panties and rips them from her body. He slides them into his pants pocket.

Olivia knees buckle slightly and she gasps.

"Turn around…face the door and assume the position," he orders.

She turns slowly using her hands to brace against the door and sticks her ass out arching her back. His hand lands one firm slap and grip to her left cheek, "Do not defy me again," he takes a giant step back.

Olivia lowers her skirts and looks back over her shoulder at Fitz. She rubs the stinging spot on her ass, "I am sorry, did you say something important," picking up her purse before exiting the room.

Fitz growls. _I am going to fuck her through the mattress._


	4. Chapter 4

**Bang! Bang!** {Part IV}

Fitz and Olivia enter the bunker he leans against the wall with his hand in his pocket rubbing her torn damp panties. She walks over reaching inside his suit jacket to retrieve his handkerchief. She places one stiletto covered foot on the couch and wipes away all evidence of her time in the Oval from the inside of her thighs. She has Fitz's rapt attention. She approaches him and returns the handkerchief covered with the wetness only he can create to his inside pocket.

Their sex chess match is interrupted by the whoosh of the heavy, automatic metal door and a parade of the guilty: Cyrus, Hollis and an extremely pregnant Mellie.

"What is this all about?" Cyrus inquires peering between the two of them for a clue.

"Yeah…Good to see you up and about Fitzy 'ole boy," Hollis greets jovially.

"Am I being paroled for good behavior," Mellie sarcastically spews.

Olivia gives Fitz the side-eye. _You married her._ He glances back. _I have suffered enough._

"We are here to close the book on Defiance," Fitz announces to the room. He lifts his hand to halt all stammering and nervous fidgeting, "Save the denials or well rehearsed excuses and lies. We have the hacker's laptop and the voting machine SIM card-justice will be served today," he commands.

"Cyrus, we will schedule a press conference to announce your resignation to spend more time with your family which includes a new baby. James deserves his happy ever after. Do not attempt to contact Charlie. He no longer takes your calls. We have eyes on you so make smart choices. The statute of limitation has not expired on Amanda Tanner's murder," Olivia threatens politely.

"Hollis, the Cytron murders and attempted assassination requires more concrete consequences," Fitz explains. "All of you assets are frozen or have been seized. A FBI agent will escort you home and attach your ankle bracelet to monitor your house arrest for the foreseeable future." He pauses and gestures to the agents entering the room as scheduled to remove both men.

* * *

Mellie sweats profusely and her heart races. She decides to play the only card she has left. The card Olivia does not have. "Fitz, I am the mother of your children. I could give birth to your son at any moment," she dramatically rubs her belly.

Olivia takes a seat on the couch and crosses her legs. _Here we go…_

"Really," he nods his head up and down slowly. "Where was all this concern for the father of your children when you were helping Hollis make sure my life was taken?"

"I never agreed to death…it was only going to be a wound you could survive to increase your political capital to declare war," she confesses in an effort to save herself.

Fitz holds his hand up to keep Olivia seated. _She is going to kill Mellie with her shoe just like she promised._

"Since you introduced the topic of the children…" he points to the sealed envelopes on the metal table. "I have completed paternity test for Gerry and Karen as well as paternity request for 'America's Baby'," he allows the unspoken question and doubt to linger.

"Do not be ridiculous," she scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"No matter at this point. Please sign the divorce papers in the folder to your left. We will not announce until the re-election launch," he directs.

"Never," she shrieks.

Olivia stands abruptly, "You are stupid but not completely ignorant."

"Door #3: Treason and attempted assassination is enough for the rest of your days to be lived behind bars."

"Door #2: Exposure as a nasty, dirty, skank with multiple baby daddies; one of which was your father in law. That information will require you to leave the country to escape the scandal and relentless ridicule."

"Door #1: An amicable divorce that allows you to fade into obscurity and saves those innocent children from embarrassment and shame."

"Pick Bitch," Olivia snaps.

Fitz returns his hands to his pockets in an attempt to hide his prominent erection. _Look at her fine ass in action. I am glad this bunker is sound proof._

"Let me guess, your whore gets away with treason because she holds all the magic of the universe between her thighs," she fights back.

"The only whore in this room is you and you will be held accountable for every one of your short-sighted, idiotic, filthy choices. Now, I can only assume your comment was directed at Liv. She is the 'whistle blower' entitled to immunity under federal regulations. So please, stop wasting time and sign the fucking papers," Fitz roars his chest heaving with each breath he takes.

Olivia grabs his wrist and checks his pulse. His heart pumps at a frantic rate fueled by rage. She points to the couch, "Sit," she commands. He falls into the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose as he takes a deep breath.

"I can assemble the press in the Briefing Room within the next twenty minutes and answer all their questions based on doors number three and two combined. Sign the papers Millicent," Olivia's eyes pierce her in place.

Mellie looks at her and realizes the guilt and shame she manipulated or leveraged to her advantage so many times before no longer exists. Their bond is sturdy and solid. The cracks of doubt and mistrust have been filled by the truth. They are on solid ground, side by side, facing every battle united.

"Give me a pen," she whispers in defeat before taking labored steps toward the door.

"One more thing…we have eyes on you too. You can be fitted for an ankle bracelet at any time. Lastly, do not try to use those defenseless, innocent children," Fitz hisses.

The door closes and Olivia kicks off her shoes and snuggles into Fitz, "One Minute," she requests.

He lifts her chin and kisses her tenderly, "Every minute," he declares.


	5. Chapter 5

**Bang! Bang!** {Part V}

 **Two weeks later**

"Let's review today's White House Lawn ceremony one last time, "Olivia introduces to get their attention. "Cyrus…"

"I read the resignation statement emphasizing my gratitude to President Grant," he huffs.

"James…"Olivia encourages.

"I make Nancy Reagan eyes at Cyrus while he speaks before leading us to the waiting town car with Ella looking flawless," he responds with enthusiasm.

"Mr. President," she continues around the room.

"I promote you to Chief of Staff highlighting your invaluable service to the country during a time of crisis," he smiles contentedly. _Finally, we can begin our real life-together._

"I say something along the lines of grateful to serve or renewed sense of patriotism-blah, blah, blah and introduced Abby," she finishes.

"I'm grateful for opportunity Mr. President and look forward to working alongside Olivia Pope; but I do not mention hating Republicans," Abby states matter-of-factly.

"Please don't," Olivia fixes her with a pointed stare. "I think we are good to go."

"Can Ms. Pope and I have the room please," Fitz directs.

Principles and staffers exit the room and Liv moves to a far corner. The door closes, "Don't even think about it," she warns.

"Not even a little bit," he teases.

"Remember what is at stake," she raises her brow as a reminder.

Recognition registers in his eyes and his smile widens, "Good behavior sleepover."

"That's right…you get through the ceremony, scheduled cabinet meeting and briefings," she saunters past him before stopping at the door, "And all of me is your playground." She runs her hand over the bulge in his pants.

His eyes dilate slightly and he licks his lips. _God I love her._

* * *

 **Early evening**

Fitz, Abby and Olivia relax in the Oval over a decanter of scotch. "Look Liv, I like Ethan too but Cy turned him out like a $2.00 back door hoe. He has to be re-assigned-he won't be loyal," Abby pushes back.

"I know…he is just so young and eager," she laments. _When did I go soft?_

"Send him to the Hill as a staffer to a Representative in a safe district from one of the Dakota's or Nebraska," Fitz interjects.

"Fine…speaking of re-assignment," she hints.

"Tom," Fitz bellows through the door. Tom enters the room and closes the door behind him. "Update," he requests.

"Sir, I vetted the new team for the former First Lady. They are all mid-career with no significant ties to the D.C. elite or Agent Rambeau. I also took the liberty of opening a back door channel between myself and OPA member-Huck."

"Excellent…what is our departure time this evening?"

"11:00 pm and your Communication Team will officially announce a Camp David retreat at 10:00 am tomorrow," he explains.

"If I were you I would ask for a raise…they are exhausting," Abby quips.

"Do not even start Whelan…besides I have a little sumethin' planned for Tom's next night off," Liv teases.

"Again Ma'am, that is really not necessary," he responds with a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

"My gut says otherwise…trust me," she smiles playfully.

"Tom, don't try to fight her…it's not worth the struggle," Fitz advises.

He exhales in exasperation, "Thank you Ms. Pope," he responds before exiting the room.

Once the door closes, "Who is it?" Abby asks conspiratorially.

Olivia leans forward, "Alyssa…Rosen's Alyssa."

Abby laughs wildly, "She could kill him."

"I don't know…my money is on Tom," Fitz defends his favorite agent.

Abby quiets, "Come to think of it…listening at the two of you go at it for the past few years; that's a lot of pent up sexual tension to release. I hope she has a strong bed frame."

Olivia and Fitz both choke on their drink.

* * *

 **Late night**

Fitz placed both hands in his pockets casually observing Olivia search for her keys in her purse. _Why are her purses so big? What does she keep in there?_ He chuckles internally at the mundane train of thought. Time and the finalized divorce allow them their own version of normal.

They exit the elevator and approach her front door. He removes his hands and snakes one arm around her waist; the other hand pushes her hair out of his way; his mouth showers the back of her neck with tender kisses. They stumble through across the threshold.

Olivia interrupts his sensual assault, "I am going to change…can you pour me a glass of wine…your scotch is in the cabinet," she states softly.

"Sure," he answers with his lips against her neck.

Fitz removes his suit jacket and tosses it onto the nearest chair. He unbuttons his cuff and rolls his sleeves up before pouring their drinks. He returns to the living room and settles in on the couch; kicking off his shoes and propping his sock covered feet onto the coffee table.

Olivia returns with a make-up free face wearing one of his NAVY t-shirts with a tear at the collar. He grins remembering their precious time on the trail.

 _ **Flash Back:**_

"Liv, bring your fine ass here," he demands. She stands across the hotel room dancing and occasionally flashing him with her red thong or bare ass. Olivia attempts to dodge his pursuit by jumping on the bed. He lunges out to reach for her and catches the tail of the shirt…riiip. They both freeze in shock.

"Fitz, this is my favorite shirt," she whines. He leaps on her pulling them both down on the bed and drowns out her complaints by devouring her mouth in a sensual kiss. She whimpers and moans. He uses one hand to slide the torn shirt over her head while using the other hand to peel the thong from her body.

Fitz caresses her leg starting at her thigh. When he reaches her ankle he raises her leg until her knee touches her shoulder. He scoots down, "Do not move," he directs in a husky baritone. His mouth engulfs the thick, wet lips of her pussy. The tip of his tongue tickles her dripping hole. He angles his head determined to explore every inch of her honeyed, treasure box. _She is pure ambrosia._ He moans in delight.

"Holy shit," her eyes roll back and her body trembles, "What in…" she cannot finish because his tongue is undulating on her clit and she is calling all the saints. "Fitz-gerald…baby…oh, I…damn Super Power," she pants incoherently. Soon she is shrieking to the high heavens and he is grateful he alone occupies the top floor.

He looks up, mouth and chin glistening and eyes drowning in lust, "On your knees," he commands. Olivia rolls over slowly and struggles to hold herself up on her hands and knees. Fitz tugs out of his boxers and sits up on his knees. He rubs her ass cheeks before grabbing hold of his rigid cock and sliding into her, "Damn, this pussy is hot," he strokes deep. He angles his hips hitting a tender spot and she gasps He picks up the pace; reaching a pounding rhythm.

Olivia reaches back gripping his ass to bring the delicious friction between their bodies to a level of intensity neither has ever experienced. His panting is punctuated by her gasp well into the night.

 _ **End of Flash Back**_

* * *

 **A Month Later**

Fitz, Olivia and senior staff are finishing an impromptu dinner strategy session at Gettysburger. As members start to depart with warm smiles Fitz thanks them for their hard work. He turns back to the table smiling at Olivia's humming while she pops fries into her mouth. "This is nice…normal," his statement is contradicted by the flash from the photographers outside the window.

"Yep, she swallows, out brand of normal," she quips sarcastically.

"Tell me again why you are not my date for the upcoming State Dinner?" he pouts.

She folds her arms across her chest and leans back against the bench seat. She watches him searching for the real truth behind his unrealistic request. "We are so close…can't you wait a little longer?" she asks gently. He nods quickly and starts gathering documents and folders. Olivia exhales, "Would it help if we danced together…once, she holds up her index finger for emphasis, and not the first dance." She too longs for their unrestrained love showered in sunlight.

"Absolutely…backless dress and I will keep my hand off your ass," he teases.

"I will see what I can do," she grins in spite of herself. Liv balls up a napkin and throws it at his face. The cameras keep snapping and recording but the two of them are too lost in each other to notice anymore.

* * *

 **Weeks later**

Fitz is surrounded by staff, signing documents and adjusting his daily schedule when his private office line rings, "President Grant," he answers.

"Mr. President, this is Agent Rambeau. The former First Lady is in labor and asking for you," he explains.

Fitz falls down into his chair and his eyes glaze over. All activity in the room stops based on his behavior. _Something is wrong-it is too early. The baby is in danger._ He announces loudly, "Clear the room-Lauren hold all traffic except Ms. Pope."

"Mr. President," the agent continues to call out.

He snaps back to the present moment, "Are you at the hospital? Is the baby in distress?"

"We are en route. She is requesting James Madison Hospital and I need your authorization," Hal explains the other reason for the call.

"No, take her to Jefferson Hospital in Virginia. Their staff already has the security plan and other safety protocols in place," he re-directs forcefully.

"Yes Sir. When is your expected arrival time?"

"I will be in touch," Fitz disconnects the call.

The door creaks open and Olivia enters quietly. She approaches and squats in front of him grasping his hand; tethering him to reality. He is shaken and his skin is ashen. "What do you need from me?" _What could have happened?_

"She is in labor…I should be there just in case," he trails off.

Olivia squints trying to process what he is saying and tracking the length of her pregnancy. "This is early-right?" she thinks out loud.

"Yes…either or both could be in danger. I am torn and…I feel fear, regret, remorse, guilt," he confesses.

"Look…you are entitled to all those feelings even though you are not the only one responsible. Right now you are leaving-discreetly," she commands with love. "Tom," she shouts.

"Ma'am," his tone anticipates the next order.

"Exercise the birthing plan with just you and keep me informed."

Tom nods in confirmation, "Meet me in the tunnels Sir," he turns barking commands into his wrist wire and exiting the room.

Fitz stands with outstretched arms, "One minute."

"Every minute," she walks into his warm embrace.

 **TBC…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Bang! Bang!** {Part VI}

Fitz enters the examination room. Nurses rush around the cramped space positioning equipment, attaching monitors and hanging IV bags. Mellie's hair is wild, her face is flushed and sweaty; she screams in agony. She notices his arrival and desperately reaches out to him. He freezes. _This is wrong…why is she not in the labor ward or in a birthing room?_

"Fitz," she shrieks with her arms outstretched and her hands frantically opening and closing.

"Time to push Mrs. Grant," the doctor announces in a calm voice.

"Fitz," she shouts again.

Instinct kicks in and removes his jacket and unfastens his sleeves, "Okay…we know how to do this," he steps into his prescribed role. He takes her hand and fixes his eyes on the contraction monitor. "You scream as loud as you want because…" he waits for her to complete the familiar mantra.

"It is my right," she declares.

"It is your right-Go!" he shouts watching the spike on the CTG monitor.

* * *

 **Hours later**

"Ma'am, the baby was delivered and there do not appear to be any complications…Gag order in effect," Tom discloses over the phone.

Back in the room Fitz stands with his arms folded grasping his elbows. "I would like to know what triggered early labor: maternal stress, fetal distress, undisclosed or undiscovered medical condition-do you know?" he turns to the doctor.

She stares wide-eyed with her mouth gaped open. Mellie watches silently praying her plan does not blow up in her face. The doctor composes herself, "Mr. President, the First Lady was here for her scheduled appointment and labor started. She was far enough along to safely deliver a healthy baby," she responds vaguely.

Fitz focuses on the linoleum under his feet connecting the dots of what was not said, "There was no natural reason for early labor?" he concludes. The doctor shakes her head quickly.

Looking at Mellie for the first time since his arrival, "If you were already here why did you request to transfer to another hospital?"

She stammers, "James Madison is the official White House hospital. The fine citizens of our country expect 'America's Baby' to be born there and receive the finest care."

"Doctor, will you excuse us please…we need the room," he request quietly. She nods and exits; relieved to escape the mounting, suffocating tension between the First Couple.

Once they are alone Mellie's heart races and her nerves begin to fray. _I need to deflect…focus on my preferred outcome._ "Isn't he beautiful…when should we release the official announcement and family photo…I think a family name would be nice," she prattles with faux sincerity.

"Enough…I am leaving with your medical records for independent review. Any discrepancy will result in you being stripped bare by the full force of the White House. This is your final chance to come clean and possible make a deal," he seethes.

Mellie is frozen; debating whether to call his bluff. Before she can consider her options or develop a counterattack; she recognizes his voice but he is not speaking to her.

"Abby, schedule a press conference…I am prepared to inform the American people that the former First Lady endangered the life of her child as a political stunt. Also, we will release my DNA request," his statements are cut off by her desperate interruption.

"Wait…stop! We can work this out," she pleads.

"Abby, brief Ms. Pope and wait for my next call," he disconnects abruptly.

"I don't know what you want me to say? I needed a way back in to set the stage for my political second act. Why can't we help each other? We can still be a team-right?" Mellie shrinks in fear at the level of hatred in his eyes.

"A political second act…" he goes silent trying to wrap his mind around her warped thinking.

"Yes…this child was conceived for political leverage…capital. You reaped the immediate benefits. Why shouldn't I?" she challenges.

He grimaces in pain. The guilt and remorse pumps thick through his veins. "You are right which is why that child deserves better. Here is the deal…my team will schedule an interview for you alone. You will share why after the assassination attempt you needed to re-evaluate the second half of your life. You will explain why you requested the amicable dissolution of our marriage to focus on being a mother and shielding the children from the current political bubble. You will return to your maiden name. In exchange I will not challenge paternity or expose your medical records that prove you induced labor," he dictates in an octave fueled by unbridled rage.

"Never…you and your whore do not deserve nor will I allow your happy ever after," Mellie rants.

"Fine…mutual destruction; I will start when I return," Fitz turns to exit.

Tears of frustration fall from her eyes, "Fine, she wipes her face, I will do the interview; but I want your endorsement and high profile campaign events when the time comes," she tries not to walk away empty handed.

"The most I am willing to do is release a written statement after the interview in support of your choice," he is resolved.

* * *

 **Six months later**

With Mellie firmly in his rearview mirror Fitz bounds out of bed each day eager to serve the Republic with his Livvie by his side. Today was hectic but exhilarating. The White House team was leaving for the G20 Summit in France. His schedule was moving smoothly until he was called to the Situation Room. "What happened?" he address the room.

The military leaders stand at attention. "Skirmish along the border in West Angola," the General informs.

"How is that possible? The intelligence briefing have been quiet…this is coming out of nowhere," he searches their faces before taking a seat. Too many refuse eye contact as they return to their seats. The regular junior staffer in the corner sweats nervously.

Olivia enters the room and silently takes the available chair to his left. She reads the status report in front of her. _Something is not right._ She is drawn back to the discussion by Fitz's Commander-in-Chief tone filling the soundproof room.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, you have ninety minutes to prove that this intelligence of an escalation in activity is authentic and not the work of mercenaries or an outside government," he commands.

The sweating staffer's knee begins to bounce. Fitz and Liv glance at each other. _He knows the truth._

Olivia decides to take the lead, "General, may I borrow Zyhir? I need some low level intelligence to follow up with a few members of the Senate," she charms.

"Can it wait? Given the President's order I need all available staff," he pushes back barely hiding his disdain.

"General, I have complete faith in your knowledge of the region. Surely you can manage for the next hour without a junior staffer," Fitz challenges.

The General's back stiff and his ego bristles, "Yes Sir…Zyhir, please assist the Chief of Staff," he directs before exiting the room.

The room clears quickly. "Young man…now is the time for patriots. Show me what you have and tell me what you know?" Fitz orders gently.

Zyhir fidgets but eventually stands and hands the President of the United States a confidential folder. "The pictures were not making any sense for the region. The precision of the attack reflected elite training and high-end military weapons. I sent my analysis up the chain of command, but somehow the determination was rebel forces," he explains as his entire body trembles.

"Liv, use your back-channel to help Zyhir verify and confirm his intelligence and keep him safe. We will develop a strategy on Air Force One tonight." He extends his hand to the young staffer, "Your country and your President owe you a debt of gratitude."

Zyhir returns the handshake standing taller, "Thank you for the opportunity to serve, Sir."

* * *

 **Days Later**

After an exhausting flight and a grueling two days filled with meetings, events, translators and schedule hassles Olivia was prepared to crawl under the bed for some much needed, well deserved sleep. Tomorrow was a half day with light, bilateral meetings with natural allies. She sighed lying back against the bed only to be disturbed by a knock on her door. She groaned and trudged to the entry way. "This better be good," she announces with a huff swinging the door open. "Tom, how may I help you?"

He produces a garment bag, "Delivery from the President. Do not shoot the messenger but you have one hour to get ready," he states reluctantly.

"May I?" she asks. He nods and she unzips the bag and almost falls over. Her white, sleeveless sheath dress with the wide, black lace embellishment stares back at her. The memories of Inauguration Night flood her mind. Olivia's smile lights up her entire face and her cheeks blush a dusty rose. "Tell him make it 45 minutes." She gently takes the garment bag and retreats back into her hotel room.

* * *

Fitz waits impatiently in the lobby. He skips past his presidential blue suits he packed in favor of a Brooks Brother's single button, black suit; crisp white shirt and a lilac tie that make his blue eyes dazzle. _This is how I dress for date night with my girlfriend._ The bell rings from the bank of elevators as people spill out but the activity is all a blur until he sees her making her way to him like a dream come true.

Olivia gives him a slow, adoring appraisal from head to toe, "Am I on a date?"

"Very good Ms. Pope…you have amazing deductive skills," he flirts. "I decided to start with a group date…we are joining the First Couples of Australia and Canada for dinner…then we can see where the night takes us," he explains with a wide smile.

"We need to call Abby and give her a heads up…she needs time to develop a narrative," she carries on in 'fixer mode'.

"Livvie…stop. She is ready…how do you think I got the dress," he stares with loving eyes.

"I am not sure what to do?" she admits slightly embarrassed.

Fitz offers his arm, "Easy…be the girlfriend of the Leader of the Free World," he laughs.

Olivia joins in, "Oh, is that all…simple enough."

They exit the lobby to the waiting motorcade. The pool of reporters and photographers go wild once they notice Olivia's small hand tucked securely at his elbow and his hand that travels to the small of her back to help her into the Presidential limousine.

* * *

 **Several hours later**

Fitz and Olivia casually stroll through the streets of Paris past the Eiffel Tower holding hands. "This has to be the most perfect, magical first dates. You are still more than I ever dreamed," she shares her heart without shame.

He stops and turns his gaze to hear beautiful face graced by the light of the Tower. For the first time in public she is available, vulnerable and without a shadow of a doubt in love with him. "Are you ready for the frenzy waiting on the other side of the ocean?" he asks as his heart races ever so slightly.

"Bring it," she responds defiantly.

He throws his head back laughing before leaning forward and placing a sensual kiss to her neck that leaves her breathless.


	7. Chapter 7

**Bang! Bang!** {Part VII}

 **Back in the USA**

Agent Stanton leads the President and the Chief of Staff into her condominium. He places a signal jammer and his service weapon on the coffee table. He holds his index finger against his closed mouth and turns to face them. _This is my last chance for redemption._

Fitz eyes the items on the table and his long time Agent. He steps in front of Olivia and picks up the weapon releasing the safety. Olivia observes the men and her body tenses. _I may have to call my team to clean this scene._

"Explain yourself," Fitz commands after the light on the device flashes green.

"I am B613. I submitted altered intelligence and reports to Command during most of your tenure in office. B613 is orchestrating the un-rest in West Angola and I cannot carry out my recent order," Tom reports unemotionally.

"What did Rowan order?" Olivia asks.

Fitz's lips part and his eyes squint in her direction. _What does she know but more importantly how does she know?_

"He wants to de-stabilize the region to allow American businesses unfettered access to their country's natural resources. In addition, he does not want a new First Lady," Tom fixes his eyes on Olivia. He retrieves a secure medical vile and syringe from his pocket and places on the table.

Fitz steps to the side, "Olivia is targeted for death?" he quickly raises the weapon and aims between Tom's eyes.

Tom never looks away from Olivia, "No Sir, you are the target."

"Me…why…I don't understand," his mind reels trying to absorb and make sense of the revelations.

"Because…even Command would not be responsible for his own child's death. Tom, can we have the room please," Olivia requests.

Fitz never lowers the weapon tracking Agent Stanton until he is on the outside of the front door.

* * *

 **Across town**

"Russell, son, you had one job…verify the fidelity of Agent Stanton's work. Why was I finding out with the rest of the world of this abomination?"

"Sir, we were all surprised by the relationship going public. Clearly she has a highly evolved skill set for discretion. I am delivering the surveillance footage of Stanton's acquisition of the toxin," he places a drive on the desk. _I hope this plan continues to work._

Rowan sits behind his desk. _Of course she is better than his best soldiers at stealth and hiding clandestine relationships; she is her mother's daughter._ He studies the man before him, "Fine, I expect a Presidential body bag by this time next week. You are excused," he gestures dismissively toward his office door.

* * *

 **Meanwhile**

Olivia removes the weapon from Fitz's hand and places it back on the table. "My father's public face is Eli Pope, curator at the Smithsonian. His real face is evil as B613 Command. I lived in terror ever since I stumbled upon the truth during a case. I closed myself off completely when he made sure to take Edison Davis to the edge of death to demonstrate his disappointment with my choices," she explains with a distant voice.

Fitz falls into the nearest chair, pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger; and stares at the ceiling. "I was part of what I thought was a military operation…downing a 757 with 237 passengers. The plane was actually civilian…Big Jerry probably pulled some strings…but Operation Remington and Rowan continue to haunt me," he adds to the conversation.

Olivia gasps, her heart races erratically and tears flow, "My mother, she pants…on plane, panting…I was just 12 years old," her panic attack escalates.

Fitz falls out of the chair, crosses the room and kneels before Olivia. "Look at me…breathe and squeeze my hand." She complies with his direction; her eyes wide and vulnerable. "We have the element of surprise and loyal Gladiators…we can beat him." _I don't know if that is true but I will die trying._

* * *

 **A few days later**

Rowan releases a heavy exasperated sigh sitting on a park bench. He checks his watch. _I will not tolerate sloppiness this close to the finish line._ "Charlie, update me on the usual suspects," he orders into the phone.

"You got it boss," he responds quickly. Charlie turns his head to the side, "Happy?"

"Very," Huck replies, "When you get my call you will receive your exit instructions."

"If my deal is half as good as yours; you will never see me again."

* * *

Fitz and Olivia are on an extremely public date for the Congressional BBQ at the White House. They mingle amongst staff and their families. The smell of grilled meat and vegetables from America's best chefs, basketball, bounce houses, photo booths, story-telling, face painting and live music performances provide a stark juxtaposition to their discussion of the ultimate covert operation: closing B613 and neutralizing Rowan.

Fitz's bright smile charms each person he engages with Olivia by his side. "Abby is ready for the emergency press conference tomorrow. Since its Sunday this will be the major news for the pundit class," he shares with a whisper.

Olivia continues her winning smile, "Huck set the worm to deliver the funds late tonight," she waves to attendees.

"I spoke with Director Webster and her team is prepared to execute the 'no knock' warrant before the break of dawn."

"Mhm-hm," Live rolls her eyes.

Fitz laughs, "Is jealous Ms. Pope back?" he teases.

"Please…for all that is holy…get over yourself," she shoves his shoulder and gives him a side-eye.

"Why? Jealous Olivia likes to get over me," he whispers suggestively.

Liv playfully punches him, "Tom and Russell will have the Secret Service replaced with Marines by the time we return to the residence," she confirms.

"Good…things are just about handled."

* * *

 **Sunday**

 _ **Breaking news…We interrupt our regular programming for an un-scheduled Press Conference with the President of the United States…**_

Dressed in a crisp pinstriped blue suit with a simple red tie Fitz addresses the nation, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I directed our Federal Bureau of Investigation to conduct an investigation of possible financial impropriety at the Smithsonian. Their exhaustive work determined that public funds in the amount of $2.5 million dollars were allegedly embezzled by a public servant. The curator, Eli Pope, was served with a warrant this morning and taken into custody. He is afforded due process and all rights guaranteed by the rule of law. Director Webster, he gestures to his left, will answer questions regarding the operation; but I will take a couple questions. Tamron Hall," he opens the floor to the clamoring reporters.

"Sir, how did this come to your attention?"

"I am a fiscal hawk…my line item review of the budget identified inconsistencies." _I want Rowan to know we did this to him deliberately; now for the bait and switch…_

"Megyn Kelly," the President calls out.

"Sir, your Press Secretary consistently responds to our question regarding your relationship with Olivia Pope by stating the White House does not comment on your personal life. However, your girlfriend works for you. Doesn't the public have a right to know; especially given the potential for sexual harassment?"

"First, all White House staff, including me, received extensive ethics training. Finally, I do not have a girlfriend…my fiancé does not share." He turns to the FBI Director, "I am confident you can handle everything else." Angela's mouth falls open in shock.

Fitz descends the podium and exits the Press Room while the reporters erupt behind him shouting over each other:

"When did you propose?"

"What does the ring look like?"

"Will there be a White House ceremony?"

"Will Ms. Pope move into the White House residence?"

"Doesn't this create a greater conflict of interest?"

"Will Olivia Pope resign as Chief of Staff to become First Lady of the United States?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Bang! Bang!** {Part VIII}

The President of the United States ordered the Marine guards to strip Rowan of his non-descript black suit to remind him that the cloak of anonymity he used to his advantage is gone. He is shackled to a basic industrial chair in the bowels of the Pentagon waiting for sentencing by the ultimate judge, jury and executioner.

The sharp footsteps of the President and his agents echo against the marble floor as Fitz enters the room. "Rowan, we meet again. I prefer this setting better. How are things for you?" _This is World War III._

Rowan laughs, "I will allow you this moment. I know you do not get many given your inability to accomplish anything worthy of discussion or that history will take note of after your departure from office." _I can return to Command._

Fitz leans over him, "This conversation will not take long. I have a beautiful, brilliant exceedingly sexy fiancé waiting for my return. I believe you knew her once…Olivia Pope."

The shackles jangle and cut into his wrist and ankles when his body betrays him and he physically responds to the introduction of the sole source of the putrid hatred between the two men. "I have a daughter who has lost her way. Given time and the right circumstances she will be all that I decided. I know not of the common whore that spreads her legs for your sexual deviant, white boy fetish. That bed wench is of your making,"

Fitz forces himself to sit clenching his fist. "This is a difficult time for you. I understand…hurt people; hurt people. I cannot begin to imagine the level of impotence this moment is for you." Closing B6-13 allowed him access to all the non-redacted files. The horrors inflicted domestically and on the world stage were difficult to fathom but he and Olivia were determined to return the Republic to the People. "First, your wife is a terrorist and you miss all the signs. You are not good at your job at all. Next you realize you are not even getting Dominic's sloppy seconds. She is giving you the scraps meant for a mangy mutt. How long did she have you chained to the tree in the backyard grateful for any amount of attention?"

Rowan squints, rolls his head and slaps a shit eating smile on his face. The laughter that leaps from his throat is cynical, sarcastic and maniacal. "You are dead-boy! I have the body bag, I know the when, where and the how. This is pointless. Excuse yourself. The stench of your failure is suffocating."

Fitz reaches into the inside pocket of his suit and retrieves the vile holding it up between his index finger and thumb. "This rare strain of meningitis is deadly but it will not kill me or anyone else for that matter. Tom…" He studies the man before him as Rowan pieces together the unraveling of his well orchestrated scheme.

"Mr. President," the agent responds entering the room keeping his eyes fixed on Rowan. _You did not break me._

"Agent Stanton, please return this to the lab before taking post outside the Oval for your standard shift."

"Yes Sir," he responds.

"Thank you for your service. You are a true Patriot."

Rowan struggles frantically in the chair. The shackles clang and scrape. "Your family will not survive the night. You will be in the Hole before you reach the sidewalk," Rowan spews.

"Agent Russell," Fitz bellows. Rowan head snaps violently. An unnoticed door on the back wall opens and the ultimate soldier enters the room.

"Yes Mr. President." _Oh yeah…you got got Player._

"Please make sure that Agent Stanton completes his mission unharmed before taking post outside the Oval for your standard shift."

"Yes Sir," he replies.

Fitz continues to watch Rowan. He leans back, laces his fingers together against his lap and rest his right ankle against his left knee. "What to do with you. You will be my father-in-law…however absent. Family should be together and you did take vows…'til death do us part is usually the last one. Hmm," the sinister smile delights his eyes. "Huck and Charlie," he calls.

"What up Boss," Charlie greets after removing his signature red blow pop.

Huck nods in acknowledgement.

"Please deliver Rowan to the cell directly across from his wife. If you are still interested in scraps I will consider conjugal visits-simply submit a formal request through normal channels to my office."

Rowan's restraint snaps, "I am Command. You have no idea the wrath you have unleashed. I will lay waste to any and everything you have ever touched. Your nightmare will never end!"

"I am the Leader of the Free World…the President of the United States…the Commander-in-Chief. I closed B6-13 with a simple signature weeks ago. Huck sent the signal weeks ago. You have no army. Your militia is neutered," he rises from his seat and makes his way down the hall. He cannot hear the crisp steps of he and his agents over the crazed shouts of the defeated opponent. _Checkmate._

* * *

 **Season 5 Episode 1 re-purposed for the Bang! Bang! Universe**

Olivia adjust Fitz's bow tie, "What is our goal tonight?"

"To not start an international incident by sneaking away to the exceeding convenient small office ten feet from the State Dinner for Caledonia," he flirts shamelessly.

"Tempting Mister…Please focus," she presses her hands against his firm chest grateful for the strong steady heartbeat under her hand. _I will wait to tell him I never found my panties after the last sex-a-thon._

He clears his throat and smiles devilishly, "Rose Garden Press Conference to announce our agreement for the military base before the royal jet leaves our airspace on Friday."

They enter the elevator hand and hand and prepare for a night filled with pomp, circumstance and rigid protocol. Fitz and Olivia descend the staircase and the international press pools leaps into action. The camera flashes are blinding. The couple represents everything American can be and the world cannot get enough of their every interaction.

The charming couple welcomes the Royal Family to the White House before taking their place in the receiving line to greet the more than two hundred guests. The enter the elegant dining room and Fitz places a tender kiss to Olivia's cheek and whispers in her ear, "Ready."

"Consider it handled," she replies through a dazzling smile. They mingle among the attendees and charm the decision makers consciously aware of each other. They share loving smiles, flirty winks, and longing gazes. By the time they take their seats next to each other they have half the yes votes they need. Fitz stands to make the toast, "To new beginnings," the room responds in kind.

Olivia leans into him, "You need to have a one-on-one with the Prince away from his mother."

He turns his head and studies her face,"What is your gut telling you?"

"I am not sure yet. Think about it. He chose an American wife despite his mother's preference. Give him an opportunity to further distinguish himself and exercise his own power. Ultimately he will rule far longer and you need to build the rapport necessary for mutual success. He has leverage we cannot have."

"You are brilliant and bossy and I love every inch of you," he states before taking his baritone down an octave, "Make sure you get enough to eat because I plan on thanking you all night long."

* * *

"She is asking for another six months. You're right…I need to get the Prince alone but visible to keep her off his trail. A sporting event maybe-Abby can come up with something."

Olivia enters dressed in only his Navy t-shirt. He pulls her into bed, "Now where shall I start with you," he starts a trail of kisses down her neck. Her phone interrupts their phone. He groans and she giggles.

"Quinn what's up?" she interlocks their fingers and plays with his hand a smile of contentment on her face. She listens intently and freezes. Fitz sits up. _Something is wrong._ "What kind of back-up does Huck suggest to stop this from happening," she eyes Fitz.

He grabs his phone, "Get the Joint Chiefs to the Situation Room and scramble the next SEAL Team in rotation I want them on standby."

Olivia repeats the intelligence and resource request from Huck, "The royal motorcade cannot enter the tunnel. Re-route or return to White House. I owe you," she hangs up and turns to the closet to transform to the Chief of Staff.

Fitz barks orders to his military staff "Re-route the royal motorcade. Do not let them enter the tunnel. We will see you in 20 and I want answers to why I got this threat assessment from an outside source."

* * *

 **Friday Morning**

Abby doubles checks the table assembled in the Rose Garden. The center piece is in place, each area has a box of signing pens and the official portfolio for the military base agreement. The chairs for the press pool are aligned and starting to fill. Hopefully the family drama playing out behind closed doors in the Treaty Room finishes on time.

"Mother you will do as they ask without any deviation. We will return home where we will have an elaborate, peaceful transfer of power. The treachery will end today are we clear?"

"Exceedingly," she grits out through clenched teeth and a strained jaw.

"Mr. President, thank you for your hospitality, generosity and the opportunity for the beginning of a long, strong and mutually beneficial partnership on the world stage for our countries.

"Likewise…shall we," Fitz gestures toward the door.

 **Breaking News…**

 **President Grant pulls off greatness-again. In a surprise to analyst both foreign and domestic; the United States of America and Caledonia signed an agreement to complete a military base.**

 **This is a historic win for the Grant Administration and will secure his foreign policy legacy long past his current tenure in office.**

 **In international news the Queen of Caledonia renounced the thrown and transferred power to her son. The world anticipates a strong alliance with the United States given the time the two men spent together while he was in the states and his wife's American roots.**

* * *

Maya sneers and taunts Eli through the bars, "Seems to me baby girl picked a winner. Despite your prediction the Republic is better than ever. He was definitely right about you-impotent," she laughs and rolls her eyes.

"I am glad you are enjoying my demise but once again your short sighted, transactional nature betrays you. He has the non-redacted files. How long before he trades you to a hostile foreign adversary in exchange for hostages or intelligence?" he snaps back.

Rowan's words cut Maya's laughter short. She eyes him quickly. "Oh yeah baby…please spend tonight thinking of all the combatants you crossed; the countries willing to pay a Saudi King's ransom for your head on a pike…Taliban got your tongue or maybe ISIS.

"You do not have to worry about me. Unlike you a mother knows her child. Livvie will not allow harm to come to her mama," she states. _I can play the 12 year old girl still longing for her mother's love._

 **AN: I love Joe Morton and Khandi Alexander. Their Scandal monologues have been epic. However it terms of story-telling they should have been contained or killed seasons ago or IMO never existed.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Bang! Bang!** {Part IX}

Agents Larson and Russell lead the President of the United States and his Chief of Staff down a long, secluded hallway in a secure section of the hospital recently cleared of non-essential staff. They take post to the right and left of the hospital door. Justice Thornton lies in the bed hooked to life saving machines clinging to the remaining days of her life. Her breathe rattles and she clutches the oxygen mask that sustains her. Her eyes are closed as she steadies her breathing. "Verna…we are glad you were able to fit us into your schedule," Olivia greets.

Her eyes open moving back and forth trying to reconcile the reason for their presence in her room. "I do not understand…I asked for Rosen. I plan to restore justice before I take my last breathe," she rasps.

"Confession is good for the soul…the People deserve justice," Fitz introduces.

Olivia places her Prada bag in the chair next to the bed before retrieving a file. She folds back the cover before speaking, "We are working with your Clerk and staff to make sure you maintain a stellar legacy but more importantly delivers a series of rulings that become pivotal to forming a more perfect Union the way the Founding Fathers' intended," she explains.

He picks up the conversation, "You are the swing vote to give the 5-4 majority to the following issues plaguing out nation…voters' rights; equal protection for the LGBTQ community; justice reform and women's reproductive rights," Fitz clarifies retrieving a pen from the inside of his suit jacket.

Verna coughs and struggles to breath, "I will not betray…my career…core principles."

Olivia rolls her eyes, "You do not have much time left and I have limited fucks to give at this point…You willingly participated in election tampering at Hollis' first request. Most significantly…the act I will never forgive. You offered Huck to Sally as a sacrificial lamb to save yourself while the President lied comatose. Spare me your faux morality…it is as shady as that synthetic wig on your side table," she spews.

Fitz laughter catches in his throat, "If I may offer comfort in your last days; know that my eulogy at your funeral will be as insincere and sprinkled with lies as the one I delivered for your partner in all manner of debauchery…my sperm donor Big Jerry," he offers before pressing the buttons on the side of the bed to raise her body to an elevated position.

Olivia positions the stack of majority rulings for her to sign. "Thank you for your service to our country," she concludes before returning the file to her purse.

* * *

Quinn and Huck are secluded at the Grant Family Ranch in Santa Barbara, California. The President arranged for Dr. Andrew Perkins, the nation's foremost trauma counselor, to work exclusive to restore Huck's emotional, mental and physical stability. They are in the middle of a horse therapy session in the barn. The progress is slow but steady. He is showering weekly and consuming at least one meal a day.

Quinn excuses herself to take the incoming call, "Liv," she greets.

"Hey…how is he?" she questions.

"We are making slow progress. He doesn't speak but he responds to requests or commands. Do you really think he can be saved? I think this is worse than anything he has ever had to manage," Quinn laments.

Olivia re-reads the file on the desk in front of her…she stares at the pictures of the man she never knew-Diego: wedding photos…a new home…a brand new baby. Her father in the name of the Republic took everything that mattered from her friend. A man who chose to save her when she was all alone…the man whose eyes were sadder than hers and now she knew why he was so broken. _Family makes you weak._ She can still hear her father's vicious voice in her head. She finally responds, "We are his gladiators…his family. We will give him back everything the government took from him. He will be whole. I refuse to lose and so should you. Stay focused," she demands.

"Right," she stammers, "I am gladiating…consider it handled," she responds.

"Good. I will be in touch," she disconnects the call.

* * *

Fitz leans down on his forearms against the railing of the Truman Balcony. The cable knit, sage green cashmere sweater and dark denim jeans provide a barrier from the night air. He nurses the drink in his hand staring into the abyss of the dark night. His mind plays a negative feedback loop of every poor choice and every moment of make believe. The real life consequences and emotional wreckage sits like a weight on his shoulders. The shame settles in his veins thick and coarse. _Where do I begin to fix this?_ The voice that always sounds like love disrupts his despair, "Nice view," she rasps. He doesn't look back or even turn…he simply nods his head in agreement. "Whatever it is we can fix it or at least go down fighting," she suggests.

He shakes his head. _I do not deserve her._ He stands up straight and turns to face her, "How many years do you have?"

"As many as you want," she replies. She sits on the patio chaise wrapped in a lounging sweater with a throw blanket across her legs.

He strides over placing the glass on the table before lifting her legs to take a seat. He caresses her calves searching for the right words, "I…" he begins before exhaling, "I knew my life was a charade…a series of make believe moments I told myself were necessary to win elections; to be a public servant and make lives better. The means always justified the ends but now they don't because they never did. All the signs were there but I willfully ignored them…I was a coward," his voice hardens.

Olivia sits ups and uses her small hands to cup the sides of his face, "Stop…when you knew better you did better. Look at all you accomplished," she re-assures.

He shakes his head, "Right…after bullets riddled my body and brain I saw the light," he scoffs.

"Do not talk like that. You almost died and my world stopped spinning," she spits.

He looks up at her for the first time, "You planned my funeral…Mellie banned you from the hospital," he shakes his head, "How do I make things right for you?" he questions rhetorically.

"You were not supposed to know that," she whispers before he cuts her off.

"But I do…loving me has cost you too much. What do you want-really? Not some abstract alternate universe we indulged hidden away in blank hotel rooms. What does my Livvie want? I will give you anything your heart desires," he implores. She stares into the night because she has never considered what she might want because she never believed she could ever have it. Fitz watches her struggle, "Do not think about elections, polling data or optics. Do not think of us as the President and the Fixer. This is about us belonging to each other" he clarifies.

Olivia finally faces him twisting Doux Bebe on her index finger with her thumb and allows her gut to speak, "I want a giant, elegant wedding that we make the Social Secretary plan but no reception. I want a Vermont honeymoon where no one can find us. I want to run the free world with you and I want OPA because I built it along side my team with our blood, sweat and too many tears," she pauses searching for more truth.

The smile on Fitz's face is wider than the Grand Canyon while she speaks but once she stops his brain fixates on the one glaring omission. "You do not want children?"

"I want but…" she searches for the right word. " I was taught that love, family is weakness. Your children deserve better than what I have to offer."

He places his index finger under her chin and raises her face to his, "I know your love…it is impossible for you to not love our children should we have them. I would never force you but I would like to be a father."

Olivia reads between the lines and her back stiffens once she realizes the paternity threat from the bunker was not a bluff. She cannot fight the tears and neither can he. "I am responsible for each of them because I was too afraid to live my truth," he buries his face in her chest.

Her fingers rake through his curls. "Teddy is my responsibility too." Time passes slowly before Liv takes a deep breath, "Honeymoon baby maybe…we start small…about 6 pounds. If we don't screw that one up too bad we have another-deal," she forcibly lightens the mood.

He chuckles and wipes his eyes nodding, "We give Gerry, Karen and Teddy some of our normal whatever that is," he joins in.

"Absolutely," she continues, "Aunt Abby is a social deviant; Uncle Huck was the government's best assassin; Aunt Quinn has a secret identity; Uncle Harrison is a felon and the remaining living grandparents are locked in the bowels of a federal super maximum prison…so normal," she carries on until they are both doubled over in laughter.

"Do not forget before leading the free world daddy flew black ops and mommy committed treason. We are all kinds of normal. We definitely should join the PTA," he relishes the gallows humor.

Liv grabs his face taking her time to savor his mouth with a kiss that shifts the molecules of the air around them. When breathing becomes necessary she smiles against his mouth, "We are going to be great."

He smiles against her lips, "We are going to be great," he parrots back.

* * *

Mellie hides away in a dimly lit corner of a hole in the wall diner enjoying fried chicken, potato salad, blackberry cobbler and a jar of hooch she smuggled in her purse. She spent the last few days in California unrecognized calculating her way back to center stage. The path was narrow but she was confident her plan forward covered every angle possible. _I am always underestimated but look how far I have come on brain power alone._ The news from the White House captivated the nation: successful international trip and new military base; draining the Washington swamp of corruption and last but not least a fairy tale engagement. They even have a moniker: Olitz.

"Fancy meeting you here," he flirts.

"Governor Nichols…what a surprise," she greets coyly.

"You are still the most captivating First Lady in California or United States history," he compliments.

She peers up from underneath her lashes, "Can we get down to business," she demands.

"As you wish," he slides onto the black vinyl bench seat across from her. Pulling a box of cigarettes from inside his suit jacket he retrieves one stick and offers it across the table.

Mellie parts her red painted lips before closing them around the filtered tip. He flicks the lighter and she inhales with her whole body. "So you are ready to become the next President of the United States," she confirms after blowing smoke rings away from the table.

"I am here to hear your plan b because plan a failed miserably," he retorts.

"Plan a failed because I was relying on a man that did not want it; couldn't put his back into the necessary heavy lifting…the man lacks the raw, ruthless ambition to wield power. Plan b places me at the center of action and there is absolutely nothing I will not do and no one I will not kill, marry or fuck to sit behind the Resolute Desk," she explains.

"Let me hear your opening play," he encourages enjoying his own nicotine fix.

"The Grant children…particularly the newborn are gold. They allow me to establish the narrative that we were left behind in favor of his new family. A family that is not going to be of the hue our party will find tolerable. The southern strategy works for a reason," she explains.

Andrew watches her brain at work, "Grant children…that is a lose term but moving on. His recent policy pivots and legislative agenda will attach the RINO label without our fingerprints," he nods.

"If my gut it right…and it is. Sally will challenge taking the hard evangelical base. In a three way race we have the inside tract as the standard Republican," she concludes.

"Who is the candidate?" he questions.

"You…I need your first term to re-invent myself as a functional power player," she shakes her head.

He laughs, "Basically you want to be Vanilla Pope."

Her head snaps back and her eyes squint to slits, "On my worst day I am better that malignant whore. She does not have the grit in her spine to walk two steps in my shoes," she spews.

"Tell yourself that so you can sleep at night but if we are going to do this we have to be honest with each other at least. There is not one person in the political class that does not credit her with winning that election on brains and killer instinct regardless of her blackness. No one doubts she is ready for re-election and last but not least she is engaged to the President of the United States…your ex-husband. He chose her instead of you. You can be bitter but you better be prepared," he pushes back.

"Trust me…I know her game…I can handle Olivia Pope," she states with confidence.


	10. Chapter 10

**Bang! Bang!** {Part X}

 **Beginning of the week**

A White House staffer guides the wary young woman through the hallways of the West Wing. Her butterscotch complexion and natural, tightly coiled black curls cut into a striking blunt bob highlight wide, vulnerable, caring eyes. _Why am I here?_ "This way Ma'am," the young man gestures toward the rounded wall.

She shakes her head subconsciously, "The Oval Office…I do not have any business that would require me in the Oval Office. What is going on?" she questions.

The door opens and the President of the United States presents himself, "Thank you for coming," he gestures inside the room. "Meeting you in an honor," he offers a warm smile.

When she regains her senses she is sitting on a couch. "I do not understand what is happening?"

"I can explain. Your husband, Diego Munoz, is one of the greatest patriots our country has ever known. He has served this great nation both domestically and abroad. Unfortunately his service robbed him of the thing he loved the most…his family," Fitz speaks reverently of the man he has come to respect.

She shakes her head, "No…that is not right. He left us…he walked away-disappeared," she trails off trying to connect what she believed about her absent husband with the new information delivered by none other than the Commander-in-Chief.

"Kim…may I call you Kim?" She nods in acceptance. "Diego absence from the life of you and your son was never his choice. He endured months of indescribable physical, psychological and emotional torture trying to get back to you and keep you safe. A human being no matter how strong can only withstand so much; especially when the real possibility of harm to his family is at stake. He had an impossible choice but remarkably he survived and protected his wife and child," he packages the truth as gently as possible.

Heart wrenching sobs fall from her lips. He reaches over offering his handkerchief. "I had no answers…he was gone and I thought the worst of him," her voice is thick with remorse and grief.

"Do not blame yourself. Every truth you thought you knew is washed away. The United States government owes your family a debt of gratitude. We have arranged transportation and lodging and the country's top counselor to help heal your family. Would you like to reconcile with your husband and introduce your son to his father?"

* * *

Harrison leans against the thick wooden door one ankle crossed in front of the other in the foyer of the large southern mansion waiting for the prisoner to descend the stair case, "You are one of Fitz's errand boys…what did I do now?" Hollis greets.

His face turns to stone and the rage filled voice grits in the air, "Look, you Klan adjacent Klown…I know you are use to all the rules working to your advantage but this is the New World Order. I am not nor has any Black man ever been your boy. You are only allowed to address me as Mr. Wright when I allow you to speak-got it?" he snaps. Hollis Doyle sobers quickly. "Your ill gotten gains are going to serve the very people you and every generation before you oppressed to amass a fortune."

"The hell they will…the Rule of Law still exists," he is cut off.

"I get it…you are frustrated…angry. You thought you knew the rules…thought you were playing by the rules and someone with power comes in and takes your agency; plunders your wealth and none of the tools at your disposal can stop it from happening. All attempts to fight back are futile. You know what you need to do? Stop complaining about the past and be happy with whatever you have left…be grateful your choices have not cost you your life."

"I can expose Grant," Hollis yells.

"Please…I will make the call. Worst case scenario he is an unwitting conspirator. You orchestrated election fraud; killed innocent people beyond the original conspirator to cover up the fraud and attempted to assassinate the sitting POTUS for further political gain," he states without remorse.

 _I would be lucky to only get the electric chair._ "What am I agreeing to?" he acquiesces.

"First, you will provide financial restitution to the victim's families. Second, you will fund voter registration organizations in marginalized communities across the nation. Finally, you will create a foundation to support gun control candidates in every election until strict gun control measures are the law of the land. I mean the liberal wish list: close the gun show loop hole; ban assault weapons; magazine limits; background checks; age restrictions; waiting periods; gun buy backs…everything you hate," he taunts with glee.

"I will call my accountants," he replies in resignation.

"No need…we already spent the money. This is just a courtesy call. I hope this was painful for you," he chuckles over his shoulder before exiting the home.

* * *

 **End of week in California**

"Governor Nichols, according to sources within your office you recently held several meetings with the former First Lady," the reporter shouts from the state house steps.

 _They are taking the bait._ He stops to respond. "Mr. Walters, your sources are never wrong," he charms. "Yes, many are not aware of her political acumen but as the former Lt. Governor during the Grant administration I know how crucial her policy knowledge and political skill were during our successful tenure here in Sacramento."

The reporters brows raise, "Interesting. She presented herself as a traditional First Lady but you are suggesting she played a role in policy and strategy?"

"Mellie Vaughn is more than what meets the eye. She, like so many other women, juggled young motherhood with real work responsibilities. Unfortunately, being married to a Governor often eclipsed all her accomplishments," he leads to establish the narrative.

"Is she participating in your administration…more importantly why now would you bring her in during your second term?" the reporter questions.

"I have always respected her counsel and why now…simple, she is finally free to do so." Andrew knows his response will lead to speculation that will hopefully catch fire and move Mellie's calculated plan forward: a path into the national discussion of the next Presidential election cycle.

* * *

Fitz opens the front door of the Santa Barbara ranch to greet Gerry, Karen and Teddy. The nurse carrying baby Teddy exits first followed by the teens. "Hello, you are Nurse Maureen-correct," he reaches down to retrieve the infant from her arms.

"Yes," she gently places the child in his waiting arms before handing over the diaper bag. The older children approach the front door keeping a wide distance and their heads down.

He glances down at the sleeping child silently promising to give him the best life possible. He looks up at his older children. He notices their sagging shoulders and the lack of eye contact. _What is up?_ "Gerry…Karen, how are you guys," he greets with enthusiasm.

"Fine," they mumble before moving around the adults to enter the house.

He watches their retreating forms before returning his attention to the nurse. "Please follow me. Our house keeper Marta prepared a room for you so you can enjoy your mini-vacation," he introduces.

"Uh…you are mistaken. Ms. Vaughn has been clear. This position is full time. I have to request days off in advance and secure an equivalent replacement during any absence," she explains.

"May I call you Maureen?"

"Yes…of course, Sir," she stammers.

"The parameters of your job duties in the Vaughn household will not resemble your job description in the Grant home," he states. "We can discuss the particulars before you depart. For now…enjoy your stay," he responds and leads her inside.

* * *

Olivia enjoys the setting sun from the balcony of Fitz's bedroom at the Santa Barbara ranch. The warm breeze whips her ebony locks away from her face. She places her hand over her squinting eyes to watch Huck, Kim and Javi near the stables. The interaction is tentative, tender and filled with hope. Away from the political swirl of Washington, D.C. the possibilities for the reunited family are endless…the previous pain and peril is an abstract thought. She assuages her doubts by focusing on the Gladiators. _We will all make sure he gets the outcome he deserves._ The raised voices draw her attention.

"I would not do that…that was never discussed…what makes you think," Fitz's voice is desperate. She descends the stair case so her keen eyes can determine what she missed. He shared that something was off with the kids. He stood on one side of the room using his hands to emphasis his words. Karen and Gerry kept shaking their heads in confusion and disagreement.

"She said you would use your political skills to try and convince us otherwise," Karen interjects.

"Yeah…if you are telling the truth then why isn't Ms. Pope here. We know why…we are not going to be part of the new First Family. We are being left behind," Gerry accuses.

Karen piles on, "We are a reminder of the former First Family and that is not good optics," she nods sure of her words.

"Your mother is a liar," Olivia's voice rings out causing each body to pivot toward her. She struts into the room and takes post at Fitz's side. _She was warned not to use the children._

"Who are you to talk about our mother?" Gerry spits.

Liv shrugs "Trust…if it was up to me I would never think of her let alone allow her name to pass my lips but she insists on testing my patience and threshold for bullshit. Let's have a seat," she gestures toward the couches and chairs before turning toward her fiancé with a subtle nod.

Fitz's takes the cue. They do not need to utter the words aloud. They are in this together. "This has always been a political family so the normal rules do not apply. Your mother and I had a partnership and the three of you are the only positive aspect of that union. You are correct…what I have with Olivia is very different. She is the love of my life and the difference for our family moving forward will be dramatic," he opens the rough conversation.

Olivia picks up, "I am not sure I have a normal maternal gene but your dad is the only man I have ever loved which means you are now a priority to me. If it helps I spent my entire adolescence in boarding schools with a distant father and a dead mother. I am still putting myself back together as a result. I know how to fix things…save people-so that is what I am going to do. What do you want? What is your end game?"

Gerry and Karen look at each other in shock. _This is the real truth. This might be a chance._ Their mouths open and close but no words escape. Fitz's fills the gap, "I want family pizza nights or movie, game, something like that…but nothing staged; just normal working family drama and challenges," he responds and gestures with his head toward the teens hoping they pick up the conversation.

They remain in shock until Olivia's voice captures their attention, "I want a real relationship with each of you. I do not have a clue what is should be so we can figure it out together. I would appreciate if you did not call me Ms. Pope."

Karen attempts to find her voice, "Uh, this is a lot," she frowns.

Gerry jumps in to test the adults sincerity, "So if we want to leave boarding school and move into the White House-that is not a problem?"

Without pause Fitz responds, "You can return with us to D.C. Monday morning."

Karen takes a deep breath, "What about Baby Teddy? Who speaks for him? He has a chance to get more normal than the rest of us," she looks expectantly to the adults.

Fitz and Olivia share a look, "Are you saying you want us to fight for all three of you to stay together…to fight for our family," he tries to clarify.

They both take a deep breath, "I think so…I think it could be better," they reply tentatively.

"We need you to understand this will mean World War III with your mother and there is only so much we can shield you from," Liv explains.

Gerry and Karen nod soberly. "Consider it handled," Fitz replies with a wide satisfied grin.


	11. Chapter 11

**Bang! Bang!** {Part XI}

 **Friday evening**

Fitz enters the bedroom to find Olivia on her knees searching through her luggage. He admires her ass smiling fondly. She interrupts his dirty thoughts, "Stop lusting and hand me that diaper bag," she points behind her toward the bed.

He shakes his head, "What are you doing?"

"I am not carrying whatever that is…I am still Olivia Pope," she produces a giant nylon Prada tote bag. She takes the bag and starts transferring items.

He holds his belly laughing, "You are using one of your designer purses as a diaper bag for leaky bottles and dirty diapers," he cannot even finish his sentence.

"Damn straight…Are you ready for this? The cameras…crowds," she glances up still completing her task.

"I do not care about the cameras. I care that they want to try and I plan to deliver immediately," he states.

She nods, "Me either…let's show the world our normal," she smiles. They pause and turn toward the knock against the partially open door. "Come in," she greets.

The teenagers stand outside the threshold. Karen wears a demure A-line pink dress and Gerry pairs chinos with a light blue buttoned down tucked in with a cognac brown belt. "You guys ready?" Fitz questions. They nod awkwardly.

Olivia's brain fires on all cylinders. "Why are you dressed like that?" They do not respond. "Let me guess…those are the approved outfits," she challenges. They nod quickly. "What would you like to wear?" They both shrug. "Are we doing this are not?" she pushes.

"We are doing this…Yeah, we want to," they assure.

"Fitz, add a stop at the closest mall or something. You two compile a wish list…we are going to give your dad's black card a work out," she throws her head back laughing.

* * *

Hidden away from the rest of the world in the Grant Ranch guest house Huck sits next to Javi on a couch facing the large monitor both fully engaged in the video game. Every so often they glance at one another when they are sure the other is not looking. Too curious to maintain his silence the young boy speaks, "The President told me you are very important…he said you keep us all safe. Is that true?"

Huck freezes. Every murderous act; torture technique; pained cry for help fills the space behind his eyes, "I did what I was trained to do and followed orders," he replies in a quiet voice.

Ms. Pope says you sacrificed everything to make sure Mom and me were okay. Is that true too?" Javi turns and stares until Huck is forced to look his son in the eye before nodding quickly. "Thank you."

Kim leans against the doorframe watching the exchange. She cries silent tears and her heart heals just a little. Maybe…just maybe they could find a way to be okay.

* * *

Mellie enters the expansive farm house in Iowa. The hundred acre working farm is a staple of Republican politics. The housekeeper greets her and escorts her into the den where all the big money establishment donors are basking in their self-congratulatory glory. The room fills with cigar smoke and the finest Kentucky bourbon. She is the only woman in the room. "Good evening gentlemen…I believe we have business to attend to; specifically how to save our party," she smiles. _Fitz and Olivia have no idea what is coming._

* * *

 **Monday morning**

 **Grant Family Weekend…The real Modern Family…The President versus a Stroller…Prada canvas tote and backpack sell out…LeBron's White House Fan…Grant Family 2.0**

Abby sits at her desk preparing for the morning briefing. _Could there be more fluff in one weekend._ The outward cynic rolls her eyes but the real her smiles on the inside; happy for her friends getting their chance at normal.

Olivia enters the office and glances at the multiple monitors tuned to the major network and cable news channels. "How it looking?" she questions by way of greeting.

"Platinum political optics…how long have you had this in the works? By the way a heads up would have been nice. I have some eager young reporters that could have milked this ratings bonanza for all it's worth," she chastises.

Liv shakes her head, "This is not a strategy or a tactic. Fitz and I are going to give those children as much normal as possible. We are not naïve…we know there is a certain amount of political capital but there is an equal amount if not more collateral damage headed our way. I, excuse me, we need you're A-game Whelan."

Abby tilts her head and gestures toward a chair. Olivia lowers herself and exhales a shaky breath. "She convinced the kids that they would be left behind…told them they were nothing more than political pawns he no longer found useful. Abby she went so far as to tell them I would not allow their whiteness to overshadow my brown babies. I mean who does that?" her head shakes violently.

"Republican incubator whore wives…I knew I should not have taken this job. I could totally shoot her if I was still at OPA. Now I have to pretend to play by the rules," she frowns.

Liv laughs, "No, now you have a bigger weapon…the White House Press Briefing Room. You wield the podium; set the narrative agenda…pick the questions by selecting the right reporter," she coaches.

Her eyes dance in delight, "Is it wrong how much I am going to enjoy this?"

"Not in the least. I am going to grab some popcorn and watch you work," she teases before heading out the door.

"Do not forget the wine…it is after five in some country or on some island I have never heard of before," she quips.

* * *

Mellie arrives at the Grant Ranch to retrieve Baby Teddy and his nurse. She sighs contentedly. The weekend away from the children gave her time to begin fracturing the Republican Party and creating a path for Nichol's candidacy. The door opens revealing Marta, "Ms. Vaughn how may I help you?" she squints in confusion.

"Marta, how lovely to see you again…I truly miss having you as part of our family," she spins.

"Ms. Vaughn, why are you here?" _I am grateful I do not have to pretend anymore._

"I am here to pick up Baby Teddy of course," she offers with her best maternal smile and tries to take a step forward into the house.

Marta exhales in exasperation, "Ms. Vaughn have you checked your messages or even glanced at the news?"

"The news…messages," she stammers. "I, uh…was asked to assist with some political matters on behalf of the GOP and current Governor Nichols. Has something happened to my children? Why wasn't staff sent to find me…I am their mother. My consent is necessary," her voice raises an octave and her tone is rushed.

"I would not want to speculate but since the children returned to Washington, D.C. with their father and his lovely fiancé I cannot begin to fathom why staff would be required to find you. I suggest you contact your ex-husband. Enjoy your day," Marta steps back into the house and closes the door. _I admit it…I enjoyed that more than a little._

* * *

Gerry and Karen returned to the White House after their first day at the new private school. Coming home at the end of the day is foreign concept. They stand awkwardly in the middle of the residence. "What do we do now?" Karen asks.

"Well, have a snack and do homework I guess," Gerry suggests.

Hours later Fitz and Olivia enter the residence. She carries a stack of folders barking orders into her phone. He walks beside her loosening his tie and reading a briefing document simultaneously. Their normal ritual is cut short by two young voices. "We did our homework…We ordered dinner," they offer respectively.

Karen is on the couch feeding Baby Teddy and Gerry is on the floor picking up stuffed animals and noise making toys. Their body language is shy and nervous. Fitz recovers first, "Great, what are we having?"

"Chicken Alfredo…we got your wine Liv…for some reason they sent popcorn," they continue to speak over and after each other.

"Dining room" Olivia points. They nod. "Well, let's eat," she drops her phone in her purse placing her belongings in the nearest chair.

Baby Teddy is secure in his carrier and only the sounds of a meal being consumed fill the room. "This is too weird," Fitz blurts the truth, "Who wants to eat in front of the television and finish binge watching that show we started?"

An authentic conversation springs to life as they move quickly away from the formal space. "Thank God…I got Teddy…grab my plate…Remind me to review your remarks for the summit…You like your security detail?"

* * *

Mellie exits the airport and sits in the backseat of the executive Town Car trying to form a coherent thought but nothing is making any sense. She places the phone on speaker setting and replays the messages again:

 _ **Friday night**_

"Mom, it's Gerry, Dad wants to be a real family and we want to try. We are going to live with him at the White House. I hope you can understand. Please call when you get this message."

 _ **Saturday night**_

"This is Karen. You did not respond to Gerry so I thought I would try. I don't know if you were angry…misunderstood…or deliberately lied but Dad is giving us a chance and we are going to take it. Baby Teddy deserves more than what we got. I don't know if you will call but…yeah, that's all."

 _ **Sunday night**_

"You were warned but per usual you never listen. Despite all evidence to the contrary your delusional mind leads you to believe you are the smartest person in the room. Think carefully about your next steps…testing my resolve can only lead to one outcome-your demise. I am Olivia Pope-bitch."

"Millicent Vaughn, this is War and I am using every weapon in my arsenal as the President of the United States. I recommend surrender but you and I both know you aren't that smart."

The driver speaks from the front seat, "Ms. Vaughn we have reached your destination."

Her eyes snap forward and the sweltering rage gushes out, "My name is Mellie Grant…First Lady of the United States of America. Do not ever call me anything else," she screams before opening the door. She makes her way into the kitchen and grabs a jar of hooch from the cabinet before planting herself in front of the television. The images and commentary send her into a tailspin.

 _ **We continue our coverage of Grant Family 2.0. Friday night in Santa Barbara, California the President, his Chief of Staff and fiancé, Olivia Pope and all three Grant children went out for a night on the town similar to every other American family…a trip to the mall and pizza at the food court.**_

 _ **Saturday afternoon found the newly blended family enjoying the California sun on a local beach. Gerry and Karen Grant took surfing lessons from none other than the Commander-in-Chief while Olivia Pope and Baby Teddy cheered them on from the shore.**_

 _ **The White House released photos of the teens first day of school at one of Washington, D.C.'s premiere private schools. While both adhered to the uniform policy they have not abandoned their new signature looks. Karen's ever present red canvas Prada backpack and Gerry's LeBron Soldier XI FlyEase finished their respective looks.**_

 _ **Now we want to prepare our viewers to enter a glass case of feels courtesy of the White House's Communication Team…pictures of Baby Teddy in the arms of the President from the Oval Office…take deep breaths for the next set before you ascend…Olivia Pope with a baby in one arm while directing a Cabinet meeting with the other. Someone cue Whitney Houston and Chaka Khan…'I'm Every Woman'**_

Mellie screams in rage and hurtles the glass jar across the room. _How the fuck do I counter happy ever after?!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Bang! Bang!** {Part XII}

 **Six months prior to re-election**

Leo Bergen dressed in his standard black suit and tie exits the executive town car and enters the California Governor's mansion. Every Republican middle weight politician foolish enough to challenge the sitting President of the United States wanted the best political operative in the business. Since Olivia Pope was spoken for he was the next best thing. He knew the data placed the chance of winning against Grant outside the realm of possible but he could get rich while the delusional tried. The only candidate with a needle eye realistic path was Sally Langston and she was a long shot. _I will enjoy the courtship and spoils of war._

"Mr. Bergen, please follow me to the study," the staff member greets and gestures toward the hallway.

Leo enters the room and does little to hide his shock. Governor Andrew Nichols sits next to the former First Lady of the United States. Both wear the GOP uniform…blue suit for him and red dress with pearls for her. Nichols rises and extends his hand, "Leo, thank you for making the time."

Leo ignores the handshake his eyes move quickly back and forth assessing them together and individually before he speaks. Instead of words he burst into laughter. "I am being punked…who put you up to this?"

"Uh…I am not sure what you mean. Why don't you have a seat and we can talk," Andrew directs.

"I do not need to sit…whatever you have concocted will never work," he shakes his head.

Mellie pushes forward to sit on the edge of the couch, "Here us out…I am not the character the media or the White House has tried to create. Under your skilled political hand we can mount a winning campaign," she implores.

He laughs harder, "Let me guess…you think a three-way race can create a narrow path to victory. Langston's fundamental orthodoxy forces her to mount a primary challenge taking the majority of the Christian right. Grant's moderate to progressive legislative record will leave the hardcore conservatives without a home. And you two believe the Southern strategy will work in your favor."

"I spent this past year championing their ideology in 'true blue' California. The hard right is paying attention," Andrew challenges.

Mellie piles on, "I stayed in the shadows but there is a sizable constituency that wants to avenge the way I have been treated…they want their country back and a traditional First Family."

Leo finally sits. "Get me a drink," he commands. After a few sips he picks up where he left off. "You can waste your money and someone will be willing to take it but you are going to lose and make a fool of yourself while you go down in flames. Do you want to know why?" They both stare in offense. "You are Grant negative 2.0…not as good looking…not as charming…basically a knock off…kind of the Canal Street version of the real thing. You are the sequel and rarely is the re-boot better than the original. Millicent you continue to be cold, calculating, and frigid. No one believes you are getting screwed but more importantly that you want to get screwed. The voters do believe you are ambitious and crave power. Power you have not earned and do not deserve."

Andrew leaps to his feet, "Watch how you speak to her," he huffs. Mellie pushes back against the couch in defeat.

"What? The American people receive an onslaught of the authentic, new and improved First Family regularly. The kids play on the South Lawn…after school activities, parent-teacher conferences, and movie nights all relatable attributes delivered effortless. Even if you could counter that narrative there is no amount of spin to combat Olitz. You can feel the chemistry through the television…once in a lifetime love…they make love…screw…fuck-consistently, constantly and the shit is good. More importantly they are a real team, champions of the people…fighting for the Republic."

"We could provide the same optics," Mellie offers weakly.

"You could…but no one wants to see it. In fact, you would probably make people physically ill…kind of like food poisoning. I am a hard no…I do not want your specific loser stench on me in any way. I do appreciate the free trip to sunny California. I will enjoy the sights before I head back to gritty D.C." he throws back to the rest of drink and leaves the pair to wallow in despair.

They sit in silence. Mellie refuses to give up. "He was never a good choice," she offers, "We need someone desperate and ruthless for center stage. I know who to call," she stands and exits the room in search of her phone.

* * *

The President and his Chief of Staff remain in the Situation Room absorbing the stark intelligence. American soldiers captured in a distant land subjected to torture marked for death by beheading are counting on their country for salvation. "We are blind…neither the FBI nor the CIA have any useful intelligence," he states the obvious.

The adrenaline accelerating her heart rate has never been higher. OPA played high stakes poker before. Hell, she rescued a baby with half the ransom requested but this is different. Olivia Pope serviced people with means: power, access and money. These soldiers have nothing but the flag on their uniform. They placed themselves in harm's way to uphold an ideal…a set of values based on faith alone; belief in the country to have their back. "We are doing this. Each of those soldiers is coming home to their families and a grateful nation," she stands abruptly.

He watches the conviction to save the young men and women in harm's way strengthen her spine. "We are calling in the Gladiators?" he offers as a statement more than a question.

"OPA can enhance the intelligence…Huck probably has a back channel…but if push comes to shove; and the lives of those soldiers will necessitate a trade," she fixes her eyes to the wall above his head.

Fitz's breath catches, "Olivia, no. We will find a way. We have military options…limited but they could work given the circumstances."

"I call BS…if military action was an option you would have authorized the operation already. I love you and I love you trying to protect me but in the end justice for our armed forces is a greater need than my fiancé keeping my mother alive to protect the hurt little girl trapped inside this grown woman's body," she swallows the poison pill.

He stands and takes a quiet step before gathering her in his arms. _She is putting on a brave face._ "For right now…for one minute…just be my Livvie and tell me what you need," he squeezes her tighter.

"I am fine…I'm fine," she repeats before falling apart. She weeps with her face pressed against his broad unwavering chest and her arms and hands gripping his broad shoulders.

"I know and I am going to love you all the way through the worst of the interrogation and the possible surrender of Marie Wallace to one of our greatest adversaries if that is the ultimate outcome," he reassures.

She nods and sniffles, "I have always wondered how she could live that duality with a child she carried in her womb, birthed and somewhat nurtured for twelve years; but now," she trails off. He waits for her to finish. Liv looks up, "The thought…that my actions could cause those two knuckleheads upstairs to doubt their existence or cause them pain; I cannot even fathom forgiving myself for orchestrating Baby Teddy's conception," she offers as a jumbled explanation.

He uses the back of his hand to brush the tears from her face, "Baby Teddy's life is greater despite its origins and the knuckleheads have never had it better because Olivia Pope claimed them as her own and God help anyone who comes for what is hers."

Liv smiles weakly, "You would know Fitz Vader," she quips.

"What did you just call me?" he asks incredulously.

"Fitz Vader is what we call your inner Hulk. He appears when interns or young Marines on duty in the West Wing check out your daughter. Fitz Vader banished Edison Davis to the great beyond of Congressional Hill. The man can barely get a call returned," she teases.

He scoffs, "Exaggeration and lies against my character…have you no shame," he pushes back.

She laughs softly, "When it comes to you…none at all."

He kisses the tip of her nose and she blushes, "Let's gather the Gladiators and save our soldiers," he directs.

"Yes Sir, Commander-in-Chief," she replies with a kernel of hope.

"Are you insane?" James screams entering the dark study. The only light is the desk lamp casting a glow against the dark wood and scattered papers.

"No more than usual. What is vexing you this evening my darling husband," Cyrus rolls his eyes.

"I know who was on the phone and while I still cannot believe I married a Republican…or that you stole an election…what you are contemplating at this moment is beyond the standard definition of stupid."

"I have absolutely no idea what you are yammering about at this point. Please make your point so I can return to my work," he dismisses leaning back in his chair.

"Fine…here is my point-prison. Olivia Pope and the Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III promised you prison if you stepped out of line. In what universe do you believe you can serve as the shadow campaign manager for a rogue primary challenge to a sitting president by a back bench politician like Governor Nichols of California? And to make matters worse he is shackled to a tired, re-tread, ice bitch named Mellie Vaughn. She doesn't even poll anymore," he rants derisively.

"You lack vision…I am a king maker and you are a glorified stenographer. I took an obscure moderate-progressive Republican from California and made him POTUS against all the odds and I have the money to prove it," he snaps.

"No, you stole an election and the Oval Office only to lose it to said candidate. How many times do you need to have your ass kicked? I doubt the campaign will survive Iowa. The visual of the incredible First Family is a no win for you. They are the living embodiment of a more perfect Union…E pluribus Unum. The first inter-racial couple in the White House raising the children she all but abandoned. You might as well call your ticket: the X-Factor," James shakes his head.

"Fitz has never engaged in a dirty, back alley brawl in his life and Olivia needs that damn white hat too much. They are unwilling to go to the depths of hell and make a deal with the devil. I am," he states with confidence and pride.

"You are a total jack ass…you fail to recognize the truth. They do not have to," he shakes his head exiting the room. _We are so getting a divorce._


	13. Chapter 13

**Bang! Bang!** {Part XIII}

"You better hurry up because I plan on using up all the hot water and today's schedule is exhausting," Olivia calls over her shoulder. The steam from the shower creates a cloud around her body reaching up to her shoulders.

Fitz pulls open the glass door and reaches her in one giant stride."God…you are beautiful," his astonished voice proclaims. _I still cannot believe this my reality._ She turns to face him and he slides his large hand down her slippery body until he reaches his favorite destination…her juicy folds. He leisurely explores his playground and watches her eyes roll to the back of her head. He bites down on the tender skin of her neck.

Liv's wet hand reaches down and strokes him twice before guiding him to push in to her quivering center. He lifts her up entering the warm tight space reserved just for him. "Yes," she exhales. "I need all of you," she gasps before rising up and grinding down setting a sensuous pace.

* * *

Karen adjusts the tablet to live stream Fox News setting the volume on low. Gerry hands Teddy a honey covered biscuit. "How much time do we have?" he questions.

She takes her seat and makes air quotes, "The shower is still running," her face distorts in disgust.

"So at least forty-five minutes," he nods, "What is happening?"

"Not too much…different interviews with different governors. No sign of her yet. Maybe she won't do the interview since we cannot be there. We aren't doing it on purpose," she shares.

"She will not see it that way. You are either with her or against her. You have study group and I am not disappointing my tutor group," he replies.

Karen looks at her brother with new eyes, "Those kids are that important to you?"

"Hell yeah…they are freakin' amazing with nothing. No one really believes they can make it but Rashad," he explains.

"Soon to be valedictorian-Rashad," she confirms. "I still cannot believe you two are friends."

Gerry nods, "After he handed me my ass; which I completely deserved, I decided to take Dad's advice and listen. He is on scholarship…takes two buses to school…puts up with racist brats and snobs all day. If he makes time for these kids I damn sure better."

Their conversation is interrupted by Steve Doocy's voice, "We are pleased to welcome our forever First Lady Mellie Vaughn," he introduces the segment.

"Shit…Fuck," they utter at the same time.

Baby Teddy responds, "Yea," clapping his sticky hands together.

* * *

Fitz hands rest on Olivia hips while she completes his Windsor knot and adjusts the dimple of his tie. "Okay Mister…what is your goal today with the Governor's Summit?" she looks up with a loving smile.

"Make sure they are with me on the domestic spending budget to force the congressional vote," he responds dutifully.

"Right…and what do we not talk about?" she continues to question.

"Foreign policy…specifically what I should be doing about our soldiers still held hostage. No matter how badly those neophytes need to be schooled," he replies.

"Exactly, because they do not get free press from the biggest, baddest man in the game. If they want to debate…file the forms…declare their candidacy and step into the arena," she states with passion.

"Damn straight," he smacks her ass.

They move into the living room gathering files and policy papers. "Gerry, Karen…you ready to go?" Fitz calls out not looking up.

They walk into the room slowly, "Uh-huh...Uhm…can we talk to you guys?" Gerry introduces.

Olivia responds, "What's up? Did you get breakfast," she raises her head to look them in the eye. Her gut tightens. _Something is wrong…really wrong._ She nudges Fitz with her elbow.

He looks over at her before turning his head toward the teenagers. "School?" he questions. They shake their head. "Money?" They continue to shake their heads. He sighs, "Your mother."

They nod and focus on their feet. Olivia retrieves her phone, "Harrison…I need a Mellie update with at least three counter punch options," she hangs up. She observes their slumped shoulders and pained expressions. "Do not worry…It's handled."

* * *

The President of the United States enters the Treaty Room to meet with the Chairpersons from the Democratic and Republican Governor's Associations as well as their leadership counterparts in the House and the Senate. "Ladies and Gentleman, so glad to meet with you this afternoon," he greets shaking hands before taking a seat. "I invited the pool reporter and photographers to join us for the first fifteen minutes," he explains. Each politician turns and smiles toward the small, bare bones journalist crew. Fitz speaks to the room, "Our goal for our session is to reach consensus on domestic spending. I reviewed the proposals from the House and Senate but as a former Governor I know the state perspective can only improve the final legislation."

All the elected officials from the Democratic-side of the aisle nod in agreement. The Republican officials do not respond. Finally the RGA chairperson speaks, "I have a different goal…one with greater significance. I recommend that we discuss how Governors can order the deployment of their National Guard to rescue our soldiers still being held hostage," the Governor of California throws the meeting into chaos.

The cameras flashes increase and the pool reporters begin shouting questions:

 _Have military operations been authorized? How many troops are being requested? Has new intelligence been recovered? Mr. President when were you planning to inform the American People?_

Fitz eyes narrow to slits. He takes in his longtime former political partner. _He wants a shot at varsity. I hope he's wearing a cup._ He nods, "I understand the sentiment. Any patriotic American wants our men and women in uniform home safe. Unfortunately, to have that conversation a minimum level security clearance is required. The governors would have to be excused; thus, you do not meet the qualification to participate in the discussion. Further, swift military action requires weeks of planning to verify the intelligence, practice operations and coordinate the logistics of equipment and resources. Governor Nichols, I appreciate the enthusiasm; however, you cannot compare the executive orders you sign deploying the California National Guard as part of emergency services for earthquakes and wild fires to what I execute as Commander-in-Chief of the finest military the world has ever known," he responds with a challenging tilt of his head.

The tension in the room rises and every participant looks and waits for Gov. Nichols response. "So the country is supposed to wait while you focus on raising our taxes and planning your wedding," he snaps back. _I have got to get him on his heels._

Fitz jaw tightens before he smiles, "Not at all. If we can return to the focus of this meeting I will explain during the final press conference to the citizens that I was voted to represent how the tax increase will increase the operational capabilities of the armed forces so that they have the best equipment and resources to bring our soldiers home. As far as my wedding to the love of my life…most people in the know are aware the date has been postponed until this international crisis is resolved." He turns to the other meeting participants, "Is everyone ready to get to work?"

* * *

 **Early evening**

Laura Ingraham's staff rushes around the studio preparing for the exclusive with the former first lady. Mellie waits patiently at the anchor desk for the make-up artist to finish dusting her face and the production assistant to finish attaching her microphone pack. She runs through her talking points in her head: create doubt about the administration's foreign policy. She is interrupted by the host, "Mellie, I am sorry but our interview is cancelled."

Mellie's eyes widen slightly, "Cancelled…I do not understand. I spoke with your producer at length to make myself available. I was told you were interested in my inside perspective," she pushes.

"I was…I still am; however, when the President decides to offer an unscheduled press conference every network participates in the simultaneous broadcast. I am sure we can find another day or time if our interview still has relevance once we hear what POTUS has to say. I do apologize…I am needed for a panel at the anchor desk," she offers before exiting the studio.

* * *

 **Late night**

Cyrus' red face stares at the two defeated political buffoons seated in his study. He takes a deep breath before he begins a monologue that he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt will turn into a rage induced rant. "I gave you each specific tasks…simple…basic political brawl tactics and you both failed. Mellie, you have a brand…Southern belle…maternal…Harvard Law graduate. Yet, you could not get your own children to participate in one interview. You compound that failure by completing the interview alone which only invites the question of why your children are never with you even when you are in Washington, D.C." He shifts his eyes to Nichols. "And your dumb ass challenges the Leader of the Free World in the White House in front of reporters which allows him to point out everything you do not know about the job and further how your role as a governor has left you ill prepared for the Oval," his voice raises.

Andrew and Mellie stammer over each other trying to defend their actions, "I used the pre-scheduled interview to demonstrate my policy positions and my political skill," she defends.

"And by confronting him I gave other politicians the opportunity to challenge his inaction as well."

"Did any of that work? No, Grant made you his bitch," he points to the person on the right. "And your insight," he uses air quotes, "Were the standard GOP responses every other talking head provides. "Thanks to the both of you we took ten steps back."

* * *

Freshly showered Fitz lays sprawled on his stomach with Olivia tucked tight against his back. Her fingers rake through his curls slightly scratching his scalp releasing all the stress and tension he accumulated during the day. "The good news is we know who the other primary challenger will be," he finally speaks.

"The bad news is she is going to make this as difficult as possible for the kids. Hopefully, the warning shot of their joint interview in tomorrow's Washington Post will give her pause," she responds.

He rises up slightly and opens one eye and looks over his shoulder. _Really…_

Olivia laughs, "Don't ask me why I said that…the article will cause her to retreat for the time being," she clarifies. "Smart move with the evening press conference to announce the successful legislation; Nichols looked like he was passing kidney stones standing next to you."

"Yeah, that was a bonus. The important part was blocking her additional media appearance." The ringing phone breaks their conversation. He reaches over, "This is POTUS…the intelligence is confirmed…launch the operation…on our way to the Situation Room," he hangs up.

Liv rolls off his back and grabs her cell, "Abby…move the press briefing up one hour. Our soldiers are coming home."


	14. Chapter 14

**Bang! Bang!** {Part XIV}

Olivia falls into the chair behind her desk. The morning had been hectic to say the least. The only word Teddy used regularly was no…Gerry lost his research paper for his Civics class and Karen had nothing to wear despite having access to every designer on the planet. _I understand that dilemma._ She shook her head rolling her eyes and a soft smile tugged at her full lips. After shutting off the domestic section of her brain she switches into professional mode to scrutinize her calendar as Chief of Staff. Her brain stutters to a stop and her eyes squint in confusion. The entire afternoon was blocked off: Meeting with Social Secretary-wedding arrangements. "Charlotte, may I see you please?"

The earnest young woman rushes across the threshold with a tablet and stylus in hand, "Yes Ms. Pope?"

"Why have I lost my entire afternoon serving the citizens of this great nation in order to pick flower arrangements and place settings?" The displeasure in her tone was firm and one degree short of hostile.

After a few taps the anxious secretary responded, "The President directed the change, Ma'am."

Olivia closed her eyes counting to ten before exhaling slowly and rising from her chair. She gathers her materials for her next meeting. "Thank you for the information. Please revise my calendar to reflect the meetings and activities previously approved by me," she directs.

"Of course Ms. Pope," Charlotte returns to her desk and sends an instant message to Lauren. _"Tornado Pope headed your way."_

* * *

In preparation for his upcoming live interview with the First Couple, newly single James Novak reviews his notes and the raw footage from his team's exclusive two days inside the White House bubble. The unfettered access captured a reality guaranteed to capture the nation for weeks to come. He bounces Ella on his hip a melancholy vibe permeated his home as he reflects on the recent chain of events. His marriage was ending while he documented the beginning of happy ever after for the two most powerful people in the world. _God has a twisted sense of humor._

* * *

The Oval Office buzzes with activity. Staffers speak over each other debating policy and assigning tasks. Policy papers are revised and assigned priority numbers on the POTUS task list. Fitz works diligently seemingly oblivious to everything happening around him. The purposeful chaos stops based on a single voice, "President Grant and I need the room," her smoky voice calls from the doorway. The space clears in record time.

"This is a surprise," he smiles looking up. He tempers his response once her notices her cold eyes. _Someone screwed up something._ "Who is getting their ass handled?"

"Did I start wearing pearls?"

His brow furrows, "No…what is going on?"

"Do I wear sweater sets and hand out cookie recipes?" she continues to question moving further into the room.

"Of course not…you aren't some ornamental appendage…you are a Big Dog," he confirms.

"I do not believe you," she challenges.

"Excuse me," he stands from his desk.

"If you actually believed I was a Big Dog you would not have scrapped my afternoon on Capitol Hill or my bilateral meeting with the Housing and Urban Development Secretary to pick floral arrangements and processional music for our upcoming wedding," she eyes him skeptically.

Fitz opens his mouth to defend himself but no words can be found. He takes a deep breath, "I swear I will get better," he begins. "Not to make excuses but I have spent my entire life with an inanimate ornament beside me. I do not have the forethought or skills to work with a functional partner," he explains. "Forgive me," he moves from behind the desk toward her. "I have a lot of work to do to be worthy of you." He reaches out with his long, strong arm pulling her toward his hard body.

"I will consider it," Olivia pushes back with her voice although her body melts against his hard chest.

He lowers to his knees using a free hand to pull the zipper of her slacks with him. "Allow me to offer a full apology," he offers burying his face against the silk of her panties. Olivia begins to shudder above him and the scent of her arousal fills his nostrils. Fitz extends his tongue leisurely drawing a figure eight over her concealed mound. Her eyes cross and her mouth falls open. _He is so forgiven._

* * *

Her slender fingers snatch the vibrating device from the corner of her desk, "Andrew Nichols why are you calling me?"

"Elizabeth, we play this game too well to pretend my calls are anything but a net positive," he replies.

"If you are calling me to fix the mess you created attempting to challenge the sitting President I am all ears. I can definitely orchestrate your return to the establishment and move you to the front of the line for the next nomination after his second term."

"I have a better idea…you and I create a fail-safe plan to take this year's nomination when President Grant drops out of the race," he dangles the ultimate brass ring in front of the power driven woman.

Her breath catches, "I want plausible deniability and the Chief of Staff spot."

"Chief of Staff is easy but we both have to have skin in the game…so if you want in you will get dirty," he clarifies.

They hold their respective phones in silence. She craved a seat at the table and every pathway thus far held an obstacle she could not conquer. He would never fully trust Mellie or Cyrus. They had both been on the inside and sold him out when necessary. He refused to keep making the same mistakes.

Elizabeth responds first, "I will send you a burner phone and we can discuss the details."

Andrew smiles "Wait for a post card from a P.O. Box."

* * *

Olivia clad in white satin pajama pants and a warm lounging sweater stands in their closet hanging up her gladiator armor when Karen's pacing catches her eye. "You can come in any time," she greets the awkward teen.

Karen debates silently before crossing the threshold releasing a shaky breath, "I am sorry…I know this is a bother but I was hoping maybe you have a time or would not mind talking…I," she stammers before sighing in despair.

Olivia listens to the angst in her voice and observes the young girl's defeated body language enclosed in a Care Bear onesie. "Of course I have time and I will always make time."

They take seats on the carpeted floor. Karen sits crossed leg and begins to unload but does not dare look up. "The drama is the same as boarding school. I am the First Daughter. I am expected to be spoiled, pretentious…fake as a three dollar bill. Add in my mother's expectations…I am not sure who I really am but I am confident I know who I do not want to be."

Olivia sits with her back against a wall resting her arms on her bent knees nodding in understanding, "What are their names? Or what is the name of group?"

Karen exhales in relief, "The Future First Wives…FFW for short. Emily Jane, Catherine Claire and believe it or not an actual Elizabeth Taylor-she goes by Bitsy." Liv covers her mouth but cannot contain the laughter. Karen joins in adding more color commentary, "They wear a string of pearls-everyday. If we didn't have Secret Service Gerry would have to file a restraining order. They are relentless," she continues unloading her social nightmare.

* * *

Fresh from the shower Fitz lies in bed propped against two fluffy pillows balancing a laptop on his waist. He checks the time and glancing at the empty spot next to him. He scratches his bare chest with his right hand while his left continues to click on the images of wedding options the Social Secretary sent him. He created two folders: what I like and what I think she will like.

Later than usual Olivia climbs into bed after stripping down to a satin camisole and lace boy shorts. He yawns, "Everything okay…you two were in there for awhile?"

"Actually, things are good. My boarding school scars and party girl past is advantageous," she leans over his shoulder attempting to decipher what he has his attention.

He lifts his brow, "Really?"

"Absolutely…taking down the mean girls was my specialty," she shrugs.

He nods before switching topics, "So, consider the 'Hers' folder option A and 'His' folder option B," he slides the device in her direction.

Liv sits up on her knees, "You worked on our wedding?"

"Trust me…I got the message. I even had Lauren work with Charlotte to coordinate a convenient time on both our schedules to finalize everything this week."

Olivia moves the laptop to the bedside table and straddles his lap, "Well, aren't you something…maybe a reward is in order."

He smiles seductively running his hand up the back of her thighs, "I have been a very good fiancé."

She nibbles at his neck and pinches his nipples waiting for the familiar heat of his manhood hardening against her thigh. Her mouth travels down her favorite playground-his chest. Her tongue laps at his tip until she hears the sounds of his anguished moans. He groans once her full lips inhale him inch by inch. _Nothing is better than this._

* * *

Huck pulls up and parks across the street from the modest home. He pushes the lever to recline the bucket seat and makes himself comfortable. He watches through the window as Kim completes her nightly shutdown of the house: closing curtains, checking the locks at the front and back door before shutting off the lights. His phone pings with two separate notifications. He listens to the voice mail first. "Good night Dad." He taps the screen to read the text message: Good night Diego.


	15. Chapter 15

**Bang! Bang!** {Part XV}

The 'American Wedding' obsession swept across the globe via every major network, cable outlet, AM and FM radio stations; social media platforms broke over the smallest detail and the anticipated viewer calculation remained impossible to estimate. James Novak became an overnight media darling due to his exclusive access. He used his new status to secure executive producer credit, an extended contract and a financial package that secured his family's future. He began the week with a half an hour special showcasing still photographs of the future First Family whether in their official capacity or behind the scenes that inspired individuals regardless of gender, sexual orientation, income level, education or age. He spliced the photos with commentary from citizens across the globe:

 _As an interracial couple we have never felt so validated…Representation matters and watching an African American woman wield power unapologetically helped me decide to complete my Master's…His policies as well as his individual choices continue to redefine masculinity…Instead of the challenges for blended families; now we can celebrate the benefits_

* * *

Fitz raised voice carries across the bedroom from the closet where he strips down to black boxer briefs too tired from an exhausting day to do more than fall into bed, "I do not see the point of moving into Blair House. Who on this planet or any planet does not know we live together in the White House. If you ask me this is a right wing cock block," he complains.

Her shoulders raise and her head falls back before she erupts in laughter, "President Horn Dog, we bucked every single tradition…we had to give them something."

He strides toward the bed before crawling across the mattress to straddle her reclined body, "I offered to retrieve the garter belt…that's traditional," he reminds her by sliding his hand up her thigh to rest before the curve of her ass.

She attempts to regulate her breaths, "First, you under my dress in public would definitely require the censors to work overtime…need I remind you we are not having a reception. Try again."

"I have something else I want to try," he states before capturing her mouth in a sensual kiss.

* * *

Gerry knocks on Abby's office door with Karen by his side. "Whoever is extending my never ending day better have a bottle in their hand…and I do mean hard, black out, make you complete illegal acts liquor," she shouts. Karen and Gerry's head snap toward each other before screaming in laughter. _She is my favorite…if only the public knew the truth._ "Shit…get in here," she commands, "Why are you in my office at this hour anyway?"

Karen pushes against Gerry's shoulder moving them into her office. "We, uh…need your help preparing for the live interview," he explains.

"We don't want to mess anything up. What should we wear? Do you have talking points or something," she clarifies.

Abby stops sorting folders and looks up at the teenagers. She has never seen them more sincere, scared and vulnerable. "Why do you think you are going to mess anything up?"

"A live interview could have surprise questions…Plus, Liv use to prepare us during the campaign. Why would this be different?" they speak over each other.

Abby gestures for them to sit in the chairs situated around the medium sized conference table. _What are they hiding?_ "You cannot con me. Why are you really here?"

"Fine, Mom will sabotage and we can block a lot."

"We also know about the whisper campaign. We go to school with the knuckle-draggers' kids."

"Yeah…you all keep trying to protect us…We appreciate it but at this point we choose to gladiate like everybody else," they state emphatically.

* * *

 **Canon AU Wedding Re-Purposed**

An army of staff transformed the National Cathedral to reflect the White House Rose Garden. Olivia stands before a full body mirror adjusting the sheer fabric of her veil for the tenth time. Huck fidgets with the collar of his tuxedo anxious to exercise his solemn responsibility to walk her down the aisle to a man he respects.

 _ **You are all I need to get by…I took one look at you…you were my destiny…**_

"I, Olivia Carolyn Pope, take you…"

"Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III to be my lawful wedded wife…"

"For richer or poorer…"

"In sickness and health…"

"'Til death do we part," they speak in unison.

The non-denomination pastor pronounces the ultimate power couple husband and wife. After several loving, passionate kisses Fitz raises their joined hands in triumph. The wedding party of Abby, Karen, Harrison and Gerry smile proudly at the deliriously happy couple. The President and the First Lady of the United States of America make their way down the lengthy center aisle.

The waiting crowd erupts into cheers once they arrive outside at the top of the church steps. Behind the security barriers on both sides of the street citizens from all walks of life line the sidewalks for miles to bear witness to the joining of the historic couple. Vendors hawk merchandise: tiaras, veils, faux bouquets and boutonnieres. People wave signs: Congratulations! At Last! Olitz! First Family!

Fitz and Olivia are steps away from the Presidential limousine, "Want to make some history?" she questions.

"Why do I have a feeling we are getting ready to give Secret Service a stroke," he replies.

"Screw 'em…they can rest while we honeymoon."

"Let's do it," he replies with a mischievous crooked smile.

Never releasing his hand she dashes across the street to greet a rambunctious group of well wishers. Once she gets close enough she tosses her bouquet into a gaggle of LGBTQ teens. The young man wearing the tight, pink t-shirt emblazoned with 'Wifey' in sequins leaps in front of the others and squeals in delight after securing the treasured prize. Fitz leans forward and kisses the bouquet recipient on the cheek. The young man gasps, "Yaass Gawd!" before performing a dramatic death drop.

Agent Larson glares at the approaching couple while the rest of the security detail jogs alongside scrambling to keep up with the impetuous break in protocol. "In the vehicle…now," he grits from a clenched jaw. _They are never going to behave._

* * *

 **Vermont is for Lovers re-purposed**

Marine One lands on the large expanse of acreage at the back of the property. Fitz sweeps Olivia, still glowing in her pristine wedding gown, into his arms delivering her across the threshold. "Wow…how did you find this bed and breakfast?"

He lowers her to the ground watching her twirl taking in the massive room and the warmth from the fire in the large fireplace. "It is a beautiful house…new, but built to last…there is a green house off the kitchen. The stone is from a local quarry," she interrupts.

Her eyes fill with love, "How do you know this?"

He moves closer pulling her body flush against his hard chest, "When the only part left of us was hope I bought the land and had the house built. This house is yours…ours. This is us living the dream."

Olivia's soft hands caress his face before placing her fingers through his lush chestnut curls. She kisses him with all the passion in her heart. "I assume there are lots of bedrooms…for kids…a nursery for babies," she asks once they pull apart to breathe. He smiles wide nodding enthusiastically. Her hand slides across his shoulder and down his arm to entwine their fingers.

"Mrs. Grant, are you trying to get pregnant?" She nods walking backwards moving them further into their home. "Consider it handled."


	16. Chapter 16

**Bang! Bang!** {Part XVI}

 **Campaign trail three months later**

"Okay Gerry, check your mirrors and honk when you are ready to let the lead car know to start," Olivia instructs.

"Thanks again Liv. I can't believe you got Secret Service to let me practice driving."

"Thank the back roads of Iowa and remember," she looks back at Karen and Teddy in his car seat, "This is our secret." She reaches toward the dash turning up the volume on the radio so they can all sing along. Michael Jackson's iconic voice rings out.

 _Don't blame it on the sunshine…moonlight…Blame it on the boogie…_

* * *

 **Evening**

Fitz reaches for his cell phone on the desk in the local campaign office when he notices the photo taken during their honeymoon of Olivia wrapped in one of his sweaters sitting against a tree watching the sun rise, "How is my sexy First Lady?"

A male voice responds, "Mr. President, so nice to hear your voice."

"Who is this?" _Something is wrong…Remain calm._

"Who is not important; what is important is what you are willing to do…what are you willing to sacrifice for the woman you love?"

 _This cannot happen…what about the kids._ "What do you want?"

"Simple, drop your bid for re-election and endorse the Nichols' campaign. You will comply since we are everywhere…Secret Service…local law enforcement…TSA. We expect a press conference within twenty-four hours."

* * *

 **Hours later**

Fitz remains behind his desk frozen in fear when the door flies open crashing back against the wall, "Dad, you have to call the Army or Marines…everyone you are in charge of... She let them take her so we could go free," Gerry rants frantically. Karen enters the room in tears clutching Baby Teddy to her chest.

He pulls himself together enough to gather information, "Slow down…let me check you over,"

"We're fine," Karen screams. "You have to get her back. She gave me this…said you would find her." She pushes Doux Bebe into his palm.

He stares at the ring through tear filled eyes before turning back to his desk snatching the phone up and placing a call, "Huck…someone has Liv. Burn the world to the ground and bring her back."

* * *

 **Late night**

Olivia braces against the wall sitting on the concrete floor. She refused to use the small cot in the corner supplied with a thin blanket and pillow. She reluctantly agreed to eat the rations provided only to get the black hood removed from her head. She sips slowly at the bottle of water to battle the roiling nausea of the past few weeks. The voices outside the room have faded which allows her just enough courage to move out of the corner to sit near the sliver of moonlight from the small window near the ceiling. After taking a deep breath she places her hand against her flat stomach. _Don't worry Baby G…Daddy is on his way._

* * *

Elizabeth North disconnects her phone call. "Listen up, the package is secure so we need to prepare for tomorrow. Remember to take questions after your foreign policy address."

"Got it…what about the insurance policy to keep them both quiet?"

"About that…being Olivia Pope she convinced the hired hands to leave the children behind. Before you protest…as much as I hate to admit her version of the truth…she is right; leaving Grant without hope by taking everything that matters would make him dangerous and unpredictable."

Before Andrew can respond Mellie enters the room glancing between the two, "What did I miss?"

"Nothing, we were reviewing my foreign policy address. What did Cyrus have for us?"

"Actually he scheduled a few campaign stops for me to combat their 'Super Couple' narrative. His theory of the case keeps me focused on traditional first lady issues like literacy and nutrition but the more I make my Harvard education tangible the better we can cut into their lead among college-educated women."

Liz jumps in, "Sounds brilliant plus you create your own political platform."

"Great, I'm off…I have work to do. My flight leaves first thing in the morning," she states over her shoulder exiting the room. _Cyrus' plan b is working like a charm._

Andrew turns to his partner in crime. "This helps keep her out of our way. She is not end game."

* * *

 **Pre-dawn hours**

Fitz steps out of the bedroom where he left his sleeping children huddled together on the king size bed in his suite. "All I want to hear is answers, solutions…a plan."

Huck stands at attention with his arms folded stiffly across his back. "The mercenaries from Erik Prince's company were paid through an off shore account obscured by an LLC owned by Elizabeth North and a silent partner. The post office box for the silent partner is registered to Andrew Nichols."

Fitz's jaw clenches and his hands curl into tight fists. "Where is that son of a bitch? Wait, is Mellicent involved?"

Huck shakes his head, "No Sir, from what I know so far she is in the dark. The only thing you need to know is that Tom and I will have Liv home in time for breakfast."

The sound of the electronic lock halts their discussion. Agent Larsen crosses the threshold at a determined pace in a tactical uniform with a fully armed equipment belt. "We are ready to move."

Huck turns and nods before pivoting back to the Commander in Chief, "You do not want the details…plausible deniability," he bends down to retrieve his red Craftsman toolbox.

"Keep your phone with you. Agent Russell will contact you with the coordinates for where to meet us. Use the time you have to create a cover story with Whelan and prepare Wright to handle loose ends," Tom directs.

* * *

 **Early morning**

 _ **Breaking news…Presidential candidate Andrew Nichols appears to have suffered a stroke…former First Lady and current fiancé, Mellie Vaughn leaves campaign trail…**_

The outdated, cramped medical room at Camp Dodge in Iowa reflects his despair. From the corner of the room he studies the faded beige walls, dull linoleum and depressing fluorescent lighting that amplifies his anxious wait. He looks up when he the whine of the door hinges signal the return of the patient from a series of test and procedures. Olivia's small frame is decorated with wires and tubes. She is all but swaddled in a pile of heavy blankets. "Mr. President," the military doctor greets from behind the medical staff.

The fear and uncertainty of the past hours erases the practiced political persona, "What did the test discover? What is the course of treatment?"

"As far as treatment goes we are administering a dehydration protocol. I recognize you are in the midst of a re-election campaign but extended rest is a necessity. I would recommend therapy to address the trauma." He looks down flipping through the papers in his hand. "The lab results show the pregnancy is progressing nicely and we will make sure she has a sufficient supply of prenatal vitamins."

Fitz's head snaps up from his focused stare at his wife in the hospital bed, "Pregnant."

The doctor swallows thickly, "I apologize…I assumed you were aware. She is between eight and ten weeks. Congratulations," he smiles.

He can only nod because the wave of love overwhelms his speech. _Honeymoon baby._ He doesn't acknowledge the other people as they exit the room as he moves to the side of her bed. He digs through the blankets and pulls out her left hand. "Livvie," he replaces Doux Bebe on her finger, "Thank you for keeping the kids safe. You're home so you can wake up anytime," he bends down to kiss her forehead before sitting in the visitor's chair. "Please open those beautiful brown eyes…we have to celebrate. We made a baby in Vermont," he squeezes her hand.


	17. Chapter 17

**Bang! Bang!** {Part XVII}

 **Two weeks later**

The slim blonde moved through the security line at the Baltimore/Washington International Airport. She nervously tucked her short strands underneath the tattered Livestrong baseball cap before scanning the arrival/departure screen. With thirty minutes to spare she turns toward the restroom. After exiting the stall and washing her hands she leans heavily against the faux marble counter. _Stay focused._ She exhales with her eyes closed just at the cold barrel of the Glock 19 presses against the back of her head. "I'm a ride or die bitch and you came for my girl and the crumb snatchers. Your ass is mine."

Elizabeth turns slowly raising her hands in surrender. "All is fair in war, love and politics…right? I mean…no one was hurt…really. I see from your expression I crossed the line. We are smart, conniving women. We can reach a mutual beneficial deal."

"The only benefit you can hope for is that I do not put a bullet in your concave behind. To be clear you will leave on a plane but it is a private charter flight to a Honduran prison," Abby shakes her head. "I voted for a rendition flight to Syria but the majority rules."

"Red, hurry up…and there better not be blood," Harrison hisses through the door. Abby takes a step back and motions toward the door with the gun. He lifts the yellow flap covering the lower portion of the janitorial cart. Liz looks between the two in astonishment before folding herself inside. Abby tucks the Glock into the back of her waistband following Harrison as he pushes the cart through the employee only exit.

* * *

 **Two months later**

Olivia stands in front of her section of the closet in the White House residence. Fitz leans over resting his chin on her shoulder, "I like the red one."

"Sure, why not…I will look like Mrs. Kool Aid," she shrugs.

"Hey, you do not actually believe that do you?" He caresses her small baby bump between his large hands. She does not respond but reaches for the dress none the less. He turns her by the shoulders. Her face is a mask and her eyes are dull. "I appreciate you attending this therapy session with Karen and Jerry." Her body stiffens but she does not reply. Fitz takes a deep breath before addressing the elephant that exists in every room since her rescue. "I know you are not fine. I wake every time your breathing changes…I hold you while you scream through your night terrors even though you never remember in the morning. I…we all need you to take advantage of the help provided and heal where it matters most…your mind and your heart."

Tears roll down her face and she does not have the strength to raise her arms and wipe them away. "I'm fine," she croaks. "I am fine," she sobs.

He pulls her body into his chest and squeezes, "You are not but you will be. Do you hear me…you will be," he kisses the crown of her head.

* * *

 **Five months later**

Kim enters the family room holding two cold beers between the fingers of her right hand and holding a cold bottle of root bear in her left, "You guys better not have started the movie without me." Huck and Javi glance at each other before biting into their individual slices of meat lover's pizza in an attempt to not respond. "Oh my God…you are both horrible," she smiles.

They both mumble a response, "He made me…He had the remote."

She takes a seat on the couch between her favorite guys. "Fine, but next family movie night is lady's choice." Javi rolls his eyes and continues to inhale his slice.

Huck turns, smiles and swallows, "Another family movie night…I would like that."

* * *

Fitz and Olivia walk up the secluded hallway at the rehabilitation center. Her tight grip on his hand reminds him of the trauma that is still a part of her despite the progress from the individual and group therapy they have all participated in to keep their family whole and healthy. Before he opens the door he turns to face her, "One minute." He bends and brings their foreheads together. There is no need to utter the words. _We are in this together._

Olivia takes a deep breath throws her shoulder back and swings the door open, "The former Andrew Nichols…how is the apple sauce today?"

"Whore and Presi-dent Grant," he slurs.

"Enjoy the name calling since it is all you have left. We are here to explain the terms of your continued freedom," Fitz explains.

"Free-dom…I can-not feed 'self…clean or eat alone. You did this to me," he snarls.

Fitz's jaw clenches, "You traumatized our children and took the only woman I have ever loved. You need to praise whatever god you claim you are still drawing breath at all."

"My silence costs…you will pay mil-lions."

Liv chokes out a laugh, "We will not pay a single dime. You are truly dumber than you look. If you cause the slightest problem our team will be forced to disclose your prescription drug issues. Right now you have the country's sympathy; take advantage of their well wishes to write a memoir of all the things you would have done."

Fitz steps closer to the wheel chair and squats down, "My Livvie is generous. If you think about causing any waves I will have the gentlemen you met before finish the job. I will not take any more chances where my family is concerned."

Andrew studies the man before him. He has never witnessed him more resolved. Even with limited muscle control Nichols manages a slight nod of his head.

* * *

Mellie stands before the pool of reporters stationed outside the rehabilitation center. "Thank you for coming. I am here today with a heavy heart to announce my candidacy for the Republican nomination. Governor Nichols…Andrew, and I spent a great deal of time and reflection to determine that the best way to serve constituents committed to our platform is for me to continue the campaign in his place," she smiles like a Stepford wife. _Plan b is working like a charm._

"Ms. Vaughn, you are going to leave your fiancé; who suffered a stroke, to campaign across the country?"

"Former First Lady, you are seriously going to campaign against your ex-husband?"

"How do your children feel about their parents competing against each other?"

She opens her mouth to provide the well rehearsed responses developed by Cyrus Beene when the arrival of unexpected guest draws the attention of every reporter. "President and Mrs. Grant!" a reporter yells. Mellie's head snaps to the left and her mouth falls open in shock.

* * *

The group of reporters jogs in their direction. "Were you aware that the former First Lady would announce her candidacy?"

"Are you prepared for a debate your ex-wife without the topics getting personal?"

Fitz holds up his hand to stop the onslaught of questions, "The First Lady and I are not here for politics. We came today to fellowship with Andrew Nichols during his convalescence."

Olivia adds to presentation, "We shared the thoughts and prayers of the nation for his continued recovery as well as their appreciation for his years of faithful service to the State of California as well as the Republican Party."

An eager reporter cuts in, "Sir, with all due respect how will you and your team respond to your ex-wife's introduction to the campaign trail?"

"I am confident you are mis-informed. Former candidate Nichols dropped out of the race for the Republican nomination."

Olivia holds up her phone, "If you check your e-mail you can read the notification from his Communication Director."

"I know we have not seen you on the campaign trail...but Mrs. Grant are you pregnant?"

Fitz places his right hand against her belly at the same time she places her left hand on the opposite side, "Yes, we are thrilled to announce we are expecting."

"Thank you all for your questions but we need to return to the White House," he walks toward the waiting motorcade pulling the love of his life with him.

They watch from the window of the Presidential limousine as the pool of reporters chase Mellie to her waiting Lincoln Town Car shouting questions and demanding clarification of her announcement against the official Nichols' campaign communication. Olivia turns to Fitz and they burst into laughter. "Let's hurry home because I want to watch the news coverage of her disaster while I eat Gettysburger."

"Anything for you First Mama," he teases.


	18. Chapter 18

**Bang! Bang!** {Part XVIII}

Abby dressed in a black pencil skirt races down the West Wing hallway holding one black pump in each hand. "I'm here…catch me up." She slides on to the corner of Lauren's desk in order to place her shoes back on her feet.

Lauren leans forward resting her folded arms on the desk. "Agent Larsen arrived ten minutes late for his shift…which never happens. He has a lipstick stain on his shirt right above his belt buckle and a bite mark on his neck; not a hickey but an actual bite mark," she smiles devilishly.

Olivia joins in, "He made a valiant effort to hold his shirt closed with his tie but buttons are missing," her ringing phone interrupts the discussion. She lifts the phone to read the caller id and taps the speaker function. "What do you want Rosen?"

"Olivia Carolyn Grant, you are a pain in my ass. How am I supposed to run my office without an assistant?" The ladies watch a crimson blush color the agent's cheeks. "Her exact message…I am calling in dead…thank the First Lady. You are obstructing justice," Olivia disconnects the call and the ladies burst into laughter.

"Larsen, my office," the President shouts through the open door. Tom pivots and presents himself in front of the Resolute Desk. "Gatorade, protein bar, Tide stain remover and double-sided tape," Fitz states retrieving each item from a desk drawer.

Tom grabs the jug gulping down the beverage before ripping the wrapper from the bar. "Thank you Sir," he mumbles.

"Thank you for representing the administration well," he offers his fist. Agent Larsen returns the gesture of respect.

* * *

 **A few days later**

The First Family travels to the Republican Convention venue secure within the Presidential limo. Olivia lies flat against the seat across from the rest of her family. The purple chiffon of her gown brushes the floor board of the vehicle. Her left arm rests on her forehead. "Karen, take my advice…do not marry a giant. Do you know what happens when you marry a giant? I will tell you; instead of having a baby you have a toddler. I can barely breathe because your brother or sister pushes against my lungs while simultaneously sitting on my bladder. I am not even wearing shoes. I am literally a Republican wet dream…barefoot and pregnant."

Fitz rolls his eyes and exhales slowly while the children fail miserably at hiding their laughter. _Think before you speak._ "Livvie, I love you and appreciate so much that you are here by my side to accept the nomination for President. I promise once I complete my speech we will return to the White House."

She huffs, "Whatever, do not be surprised if you have to roll me on stage with a dolly."

The presidential motorcade pulls in front the convention center. The agents exit and open the rear doors allowing the First Family to exit. Fitz kneels to place the ballet slippers on Olivia's swollen feet. He slides his right arm between her body and the leather seat to help lift her into a seated position, "I know how you feel but you have never been more beautiful and I have never been this proud to stand at anyone's side."

Tears fill her eyes, "I am a hormonal roller coaster but you continue to make me feel like the only woman in the world." She cradles his face in her small hands and rubs her right thumb against his cheek. "We are so blessed to have you," she punctuates her statement with a soft kiss to his mouth.

"I am the lucky one. Now let's get moving before cranky Liv returns." They both laugh moving to exit the car.

Gerry cradles Baby Teddy on his left side as they move down the red carpet, "Wave to people," he instructs. Karen charms the crowd on the right side of the carpet. The cheering and camera flashes intensify as the President and First Lady fall in step behind the children.

They reach the double door entrance when Olivia squeezes Fitz's hand until his flesh turns red. "Livvie?" Her eyes are wide and beads of perspiration dot hear hair line. She looks down to the expanding dark spot on the front of her gown. Fitz takes a deep breath, "Your water broke…labor started and we need to leave." _Remain calm._

She exhales a long breath between each response, "Yes…yes…immediately."

He shouts the code command to the attending agents, "Family First!"

Karen rushes to Olivia's side grabbing her hand. Agent Larsen issues orders into his wrist wire, "Move the ambulance to the front of the motorcade…alert James Madison."

* * *

Fitz spoons behind Olivia propped up on the hospital bed. Wrapped in a plush white robe she cradles the newborn swaddled in a lush pink cashmere blanket. The baby's full copper curls adorn her head like a crown. Gerry and Karen flank each side of the bed. Abby adjusts the camera and begins the recording, "Good Evening America. I know you were expecting my acceptance speech for the Republican nomination but the new addition to our family had different plans."

"We are excited to introduce our little sister, Hope Grant" Karen announces.

"She is 8lbs. and 10 oz. with an impressive set of lungs," Gerry adds.

"Thank you for all your well wishes. We ask for your patience while we take some time away from the campaign trail; however, we will not stop our work at the White House delivering results for the American people," Olivia speaks for the first time.

"God bless you and God bless the United States of America," Fitz closes the video.

"…And we're out," Abby stops the recording. "Now, hand me that baby," she demands. Olivia places the baby in her outstretched arms before falling back against the pillows. "How are you holding up?"

"Holding up? I was in labor for six hours. I am thanking all the saints I didn't rip my ass wide open." Everyone in the room winces at her statement. "I got good drugs…in fact I may still be a little high," she closes her eyes and exhales.

"I do not know that kind of pain nor am I interested; but looking at this little piece of heaven I got a say…it was worth it. She is perfect…a complete mini-Liv." The baby squirms and whimpers.

Fitz moves across the room lifting his daughter from Abby's arms. He places her against the plain white t-shirt pulled against his muscled chest. During the delivery he removed his shirt and tie before straddling behind Olivia on the bed. Serving as not only her emotional but physical support created a unique connection to the newest princess in his life. He kisses the top of her head, "I got you…Daddy is right here," he bounces lightly.

Olivia opens her eyes watching the two great loves of her life bond. She glances over watching Gerry and Karen posting individual pictures holding their new sibling to their social media accounts. _This is what happy ever after looks like._


End file.
